.V 


SEEING  THE 
FAR  WEST 

JOHNTFARIS 


H 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 


By  JOHN  T.  FARE 

SEEING  PENNSYLVANIA 

Frontispiece  in  color,  113  illustrations  in  doubletone  and  2  maps. 
Octavo. 

A  rare  and   fascinating  guide   to  an  American  wonderland 
which  all  Americans  should  know. 

THE  ROMANCE  OF 
OLD  PHILADELPHIA 

Frontispiece  in   color  and    101    illustrations  in  doubletone. 
Decorated  cloth.     Octavo. 

"A  narrative  sometimes  purely  romantic,  sometimes  epic, 
but  always  finely  human  .  .  .  particularly  inciting  Americans 
to  a  broader  patriotism." — Boston  Transcript. 

OLD  ROADS 
OUT  OF  PHILADELPHIA 

117  illustrations  and  a  map.     Decorated  cloth. 
Octavo. 

"It  would  be  hard  to  find  anywhere  in  America  roads 
richer  in  historical  interest .  .  .  and  John  T.  Faris  has  told  the 
story  of  them  well." — New  York  Times. 

By  THEODOOR  DE  BOOY 
and  JOHN  T.  FARIS 

THE  VIRGIN  ISLANDS 
OUR  NEW  POSSESSIONS  AND 
THE  BRITISH  ISLANDS 

97  illustrations  and  five  maps  especially  prepared  for 
this  work.     Octavo. 

"A  new  and  wonderfully  entertaining  book  of  travel .  .  . 
an  ideal  book — would  there  were  many  more  'just  as  good.' " 

— Travel. 


SEEING  TtE 
FAR  WEST 


JOHN  T  FABJ  S 

With  113  Illustrations  and  2  Maps 


PHILADELPHIA  $  LONDON 

J.  B.LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 
1920 


COPYRIGHT,    1920,   BY  J.    B.    LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 


PRINTED  BY  J.   B.    LIPPINCOTT  COMPANY 

AT  THE  WASHINGTON   SQUARE   PRESS 

PHILADELPHIA,    U.    S.    A. 


FOREWORD 

THE  five-year-old  found  her  way  to  her  father's 
desk,  pushed  aside  the  maps  and  manuscripts 
over  which  he  had  been  poring,  climbed  to  his 
knee,  and  said,  ' '  Now  tell  me  a  story  about  Colorado. ' ' 

The  story  was  told,  and  the  request  that  Colorado 
be  pointed  out  on  the  map  was  complied  with.  Then  she 
said,  i  '  Take  me  to  Colorado  some  day ! ' ' 

Another  day  the  request  was  for  a  story  about  Cali 
fornia.  As  before,  the  map  was  brought  into  play  to 
satisfy  childish  curiosity,  and  the  plea  followed,  '  '  Take 
me  to  California  some  day.  I  want  to  see  El  Cap-i-tan. ' ' 

Day  after  day  father  and  daughter  went  through 
with  the  program,  and  the  ceremony  was  always  com 
pleted  by  the  confident  assurance  that  some  day  they 
would  see  together  the  beauty  spots  of  which  they  had 
been  talking.  Finally,  when  Colorado,  California,  Ari 
zona,  Washington,  Montana,  Oregon,  Idaho,  Wyoming, 
Utah,  Nevada  and  New  Mexico  had  been  represented  in 
stories,  there  was  the  final  assertion,  "Some  day  we'll 
see  them  all,  won't  we?" 

Every  American  should  have  that  child's  impartial 
interest  in  the  natural  wonders  of  the  Far  West  and 
her  determination  to  see  not  merely  one  or  two  of  the 
states  that  present  to  the  sightseer  programs  so  varied 
and  alluring.  There  will  be  time  to  have  favorite  spots 
for  wandering  when  a  general  view  has  been  taken  of 
all  the  regions  a  bountiful  Providence  has  so  wonder 
fully  endowed. 

Having  taken  first  the  general  view,  there  will  be 

5 

4G9231 


FOREWORD 

opportunity  to  specialize  by  making  an  exhaustive  study 
of  some  particular  aspect  of  the  scenery  of  moun 
tains  or  valleys,  rivers  or  lakes,  deserts  or  canyons. 
And  what  a  field  for  specialization  Western  sce 
nery  presents  I 

The  traveler  who  follows  in  the  wake  of  the  dis 
coverers  of  the  scenic  glories  of  the  states  from  the 
Eockies  to  the  Pacific  will  find  that,  while  the  railroads 
lead  to  many  of  the  best  known  of  these,  there  are  many 
more  that  are  at  a  distance  from  the  steel  highways. 
But  those  who  find  it  impossible  to  leave  the  railways 
will  be  able  to  make  many  memorable  trips.  Still 
greater  joy  is  reserved  for  those  who  make  their  way 
by  the  splendid  highways  that  now  gridiron  the  West, 
and  the  greatest  joy  of  all  awaits  those  who  wander 
by  pack  train  or  on  foot  in  difficult  country,  camping  out 
in  the  mountains  or  on  the  plains,  crossing  mysterious 
deserts  or  delving  into  hidden  canyons,  climbing  to 
inaccessible  glaciers,  or  penetrating  to  meadow-like 
valleys  that  are  tucked  away  in  a  setting  of  snow- 
clad  mountains. 

But  take  time  enough!  Don't  think  that  a  hurried 
trip  across  the  Continent  is  sufficient,  or  that,  by  passing 
once  through  one  of  the  states,  vast  as  many  a  European 
nation,  the  section  in  question  is  really  seen.  One  of 
the  first  guide-books  prepared  after  the  completion  of 
the  Union  Pacific  Eailroad  gave  an  itinerary  for  sixty 
days.  "I  cannot  tolerate  the  idea  of  less  than  sixty 
days,"  the  author  added.  But  if  sixty  days  was  a 
necessity  then,  how  much  more  to-day  when  half  a 
dozen  transcontinental  lines,  many  cross  lines,  and 
innumerable  roads  for  the  automobile  have  opened  up 
points  of  interest  not  even  dreamed  of  fifty  years  ago ! 

6 


FOREWORD 

Perhaps  some  reader  may  be  inspired  to  make  inde 
pendent  investigation,  that  will  bear  fruit  in  disclosing 
some  secret  beauties  still  hidden  in  regions  as  yet  not 
completely  charted.  For  there  are  such  regions  in 
mountain  and  desert ;  they  are  waiting  for  some  one  to 
come  to  them.  That  some  one  may  be  you ! 

More  Americans  need  to  wake  up  to  the  fact  that 
in  their  own  West  is  scenery  that  is  beyond  comparison. 
Travelers  talk  of  the  Fjords  of  Norway;  but  let  them 
go  to  Hood's  Canal  or  Lake  Chelan  in  Washington,  or 
to  the  lakes  of  Glacier  National  Park !  The  Himalayas 
and  the  Andes  are  famous  among  mountaineers;  but 
what  of  the  Sierras,  the  Cascades,  and  the  Bockies? 
These  may  not  be  so  lofty,  but  they  are  as  inspiring 
and  as  overwhelming.  Adjectives  are  used  exhaus 
tively  in  describing  the  Selkirks  of  Canada ;  but  there 
are  the  tremendous  precipices  and  glaciers  of  North 
western  Montana.  Visitors  take  delight  in  the  flowers 
that  bloom  high  up  in  the  Alps ;  but  where  are  flower- 
clad  mountain  meadows  to  compare  with  those  of  Colo 
rado  or  California  or  Oregon  or  Washington?  The 
Falls  of  the  Zambesi  in  Africa  are  majestic;  but  why 
lose  sight  of  the  great  cascades  of  Wyoming  and  Idaho, 
of  Washington  and  Oregon  and  California  and  Utah, 
some  of  these  two  and  even  three  times  as  high  as 
Niagara?  It  is  not  strange  that  travelers  speak  with 
admiration  of  the  mountain  highways  of  Europe,  yet 
how  many  realize  that  in  the  Western  States  are  roads 
that  surpass  even  the  superb  highway  on  the  Stelvio 
Pass?  There  are  glorious  rivers  in  Europe  and  Asia, 
but  how  many  of  these  can  be  thought  of  with  the  Colum 
bia?  What  has  the  Eiviera  to  offer  in  scenery  and 
climate  that  the  Coast  of  Southern  California  cannot 

7 


FOREWORD 

duplicate  or  surpass?  When  the  lure  of  the  desert  is 
spoken  of,  why  should  we  persist  in  thinking  only  of 
the  Sahara  or  the  plains  of  Tibet!  In  the  West  there 
are  deserts  as  boundless  and  as  attractive.  Then  there 
are  the  mighty  forests  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  and  the 
Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado  and  the  Yosemite  Valley 
and  Yellowstone  Park  and  Crater  Lake,  and  how 
many  other  wonders  that  are  unlike  anything  to  be 
found  elsewhere ! 

The  author,  while  not  slighting  scenes  already  made 
delightfully  familiar  by  many  writers,  has  sought  to 
give  emphasis  also  to  regions  of  which  little  has  been 
said — among  others,  the  great  National  Forests  whose 
beauties  were  seen  in  the  course  of  more  than  three 
thousand  miles  of  travel  far  from  railroads;  the  Na 
tional  Parks  and  Monuments,  especially  those  opened  in 
recent  years,  including  Zion  Canyon,  that  wonder  of 
Southern  Utah  which,  so  far  as  the  writer  knows,  but 
one  recent  volume  has  touched  upon ;  the  deserts  which 
silently  and  compellingly  call  to  the  traveler  who  hur 
ries  across  them  by  train;  and  the  amazing  lava-built 
regions  of  Central  Oregon,  east  of  the  Cascades,  which 
will  be  better  known  to  Americans  when  there  is  a 
through  railroad  from  Klamath  Falls  to  the  Columbia. 

Grateful  acknowledgment  is  made  to  Mr.  Charles 
Howard  Shinn  of  North  Fork,  California,  for  invalu 
able  help,  as  well  as  to  Messrs.  E.  F.  Hammatt,  T.  N. 
Lorenzen,  T.  M.  Talbott,  Norman  G.  Jacobson,  A.  G. 
Jackson,  M.  A.  Benedict,  and  other  genial  officials  of 
the  United  States  Forestry  Service  for  companionship 
on  roads  in  mountain  and  forest. 

JOHN  T.  FABIS 

PHUADEUPHIA,  APRIL,  1920 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    THE  WALLS  OF  PARADISE 17 

PIKE'S  PEAK  AND  BEYOND 

II.    UNDER  THE  WALLS  OF  PARADISE 24 

IN  THE  PIKE'S  PEAK  REGION 

III.  ALLURING  CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 30 

IV.  IN  NATURE'S  GARDENS 45 

THE  PARKS  OP  COLORADO 

V.    IN  GARDENS  OF  MAN'S  DEVISING 56 

THE  IRRIGATED   LANDS  OP  COLORADO 

VI.    ONE  THOUSAND  MILES  THROUGH  ROCKIES...  65 

VH.    THROUGH  THE  LAND  OF  FOSSILS 73 

VIII.    FROM    THE   YELLOWSTONE   TO   THE    GRAND 

CANYON 87 

IX.    FROM    THE    CITY    OF    THE   SAINTS   TO   ZION 

CANYON  92 

X.    GOD'S  AUTOGRAPH  IN  STONE 105 

THE  GRAND  CANYON  OP  THE  COLORADO 

XI.    ALONG  THE  WESTERN  BORDER  OF  ARIZONA. . .  Ill 

XII.    THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SALTON  SINK 115 

XIII.  ARIZONA'S  COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 121 

XIV.  IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  DONS 138 

XV..    THE  ALLURING  DESERT 150 

XVI.    WHERE  MONTANA  HISTORY  WAS  MADE 158 

XVII.    ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  LEWIS  AND  CLARK 170 

XVIII.    "  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  WORLD  " 176 

THE  STORY  OP  YELLOWSTONE  PARK 

XIX.    FROM  THE  YELLOWSTONE  TO  WALLA  WALLA  181 

XX.    FROM   GREAT  SALT  LAKE  TO  SACRAMENTO..  190 

XXI.    FROM  SAN  DIEGO  TO  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY  202 

XXII.    IN  AND  ABOUT  LOS  ANGELES 210 

9 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXIII.  IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  SIERRAS 218 

XXIV.  FROM  LOS  ANGELES  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO 227 

XXV.    IN  THE  MOUNT  SHASTA  COUNTRY 235 

XXVI.    FROM  CRATER  TO  CRATER  IN  OREGON 240 

XXVII.    A  MOUNTAIN  DINNER  AND  OTHER  DINNERS  248 

XXVIII.    THROUGH  CANYON  AND  GORGE  TO  PORTLAND  254 

XXIX.    OLYMPIC  WANDERINGS 262 

XXX.    ON  PUGET  SOUND 268 

XXXI.    THE  JOY  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD 272 

XXXII.    ACROSS  WASHINGTON'S  INLAND  EMPIRE  ....  276 

XXXIII.    WESTERN  HIGHWAYS 284 

INDEX  .  289 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING  PAGB 

IN  ZION  NATIONAL  PARK,  UTAH Frontispiece 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

SKIING  IN  THE  ROCKY   MOUNTAINS 18 

Photo  by  Wiswall  Brothers,  Denver 

PIKE'S  PEAK,  COLORADO 19 

Photo  from  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad 

WILLIAMS  CANON,  NORTH  OP  MANITOU,  COLORADO 26 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

GATEWAY  TO  THE  GARDEN  OF  THE  GODS 27 

Photo  from  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad 

DENVER  ON  SUNDAY  MORNING '. 42 

Photo  by  Wiswall  Brothers,  Denver 

WINDY  POINT,  WHERE  CHIEF  COLOROW  WATCHED  FOR  THE  GOLD 
SEEKERS 43 

IN  BIG  THOMPSON  CANYON,  COLORADO 50 

SPRUCE  TREE  HOUSE,  MESA  VERDE   NATIONAL  PARK 51 

Photo  from  Denver  and  Rio  Grande  Railroad 

RAINBOW  BRIDGE,  UTAH 51 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

IN  GUNNISON  CANYON,  COLORADO 58 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

ON  GRAND  LAKE,  COLORADO 59 

Photo  by  Mile  High  Photo  Company,  Denver 

ROYAL  GORGE,  NEAR  CANON  CITY,  COLORADO 68 

Photo  by  Photocraft  Shop,  Colorado  Springs 

THE  SKY  LINE  DRIVE,  CANON  CITY,  COLORADO 69 

Photo  by  Photocraft  Shop 

MOUNT  OF  THE  HOLY  CROSS,  COLORADO 69 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

OURAY,  COLORADO 70 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

ON  GREEN  RIVER,  WYOMING 82 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

DEVIL'S  SLIDE,  WEBER  CANYON,  UTAH 82 

Photo  by  Noggle  Studio,  Ogden,  Utah 

11 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

CAVE  ROCK,  NEAR  SIERRA  LA  SAL,  UTAH 88 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

ZION  CANYON,  UTAH 96 

Photo  from  United  States  Railroad  Administration 

THE  GREAT  WHITE  THRONE,  ZION  CANYON,  UTAH 102 

Photo  from  Los  Angeles  and  Salt  Lake  Railroad 

THE  BREAKS  OP  CEDAR  CANYON,  UTAH 103 

Photo  copyright  by  R.  D.  Adams,  Cedar  City,  Utah 

IN  ZION  CANYON,  UTAH 103 

Photo  from  Los  Angeles  and  Salt  Lake  Railroad 

SANDSTONE  CLIFFS,  NEAR  PEACH  SPRINGS,  ARIZONA 108 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

ACROSS  THE  GRAND  CANYON  FROM  ZUNI  POINT 109 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

AN  IRRIGATING  CANAL 116 

ARIZONA  DESERT  NEAR  PHOENIX 116 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

NATURAL  BRIDGE,  NORTH  OF  MANUELITO,  ARIZONA 122 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

BAD  LANDS,  NEAR  WINSLOW,  ARIZONA 122 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

SCATTERED  FRAGMENTS,  PETRIFIED  FOREST,  ARIZONA 123 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

MONTEZUMA  CASTLE,  ARIZONA 123 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

SORTING  Cows  AND  CALVES  IN  A  NEW  MEXICO  ROUND-UP 142 

Photo  by  Wilfrid  Smith,  Roswell,  New  Mexico 

SUPPOSED  REMAINS  OF  AN  ANCIENT  IRRIGATION  DITCH,  NEW  MEXICO  146 

Photo  by  Wilfrid  Smith,  Roswell,  New  Mexico 

NAVAJO  CHURCH,  NEAR  FORT  WINGATE,  NEW  MEXICO 146 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

RUINS  OF  PECOS  CHURCH,  NEW  MEXICO 147 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

THE  MESA  ENCANTADA,  NEW  MEXICO 147 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

SOUTH  FRONT,  SAN  BERNARDINO  RANGE 152 

IN  THE  ARIZONA  DESERT 152 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

ARIZONA  DESERT  BEFORE  CULTIVATION 153 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 
12 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

THOMPSON  FALLS,  MONTANA 166 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

POMPEY'S  PILLAR,  MONTANA , 167 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

CABINET  GORGE,  IDAHO 167 

Photo  by  Haynes,  St.  Paul 

McDERMOTT  LAKE,  GLACIER  NATIONAL  PARK 170 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

ON  THE  TRAIL  BETWEEN  ST.  MARY'S  LAKE  AND  LAKE  MCDERMOTT, 
GLACIER  NATIONAL  PARK 171 

Photo  by  Marble  Photo  Company 

VIEW  DOWN  FLATHEAD  RIVER  FROM  KNOWLES,  MONTANA 174 

Photo  by  Haynes,  St.  Paul 

GRINNELL  GLACIER,  GLACIER  NATIONAL  PARK 174 

Photo  by  A.  J.  Baker 

GRAND  CANYON  OF  THE  YELLOWSTONE,  FROM  ARTIST  POINT 176 

Photo  copyright  by  Haynes,  St.  Paul 

GIANT  GEYSER,  YELLOWSTONE  PARK 177 

Photo  by  Haynes,  tit.  Paul 

NORRIS  GEYSER  BASIN,  YELLOWSTONE  PARK 178 

Photo  copyright  by  Haynes,  St.  Paul 

ELECTRIC  PEAK,  YELLOWSTONE  PARK 178 

Photo  by  "Haynes,  St.  Paul 

LOG  SLIDE  TO  RIVER,  IDAHO 184 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

UPPER  FALLS,  HENRY'S  FORK  OF  SNAKE  RIVER,  IDAHO 184 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

SHOSHONE  FALLS,  IDAHO 185 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

LOOKING  DOWN  OGDEN  CANYON 194 

Photo  by  George  W.  Goshen 

PALISADE  CANYON,  NEVADA 194 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

CHANNEL  OF  HUMBOLDT  RIVER,  NEAR  RYE  PATCH,  NEVADA 195 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

ON  LAKE  TAHOE,  NEVADA-CALIFORNIA 198 

Photo  from  Union  Pacific  Railroad 

ON  THE  SAN  DIEGO  RIVER,  CALIFORNIA 208 

ON  THE  ROAD  ABOVE  CUYAMACA  LAKE,  CALIFORNIA 209 

Photo  by  R.  F,  Hammatt 

13 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

ELTSIAN  PARK,  Los  ANGELES 212 

Photo  by  Putnam  and  Valentine,  Los  Angeles 

IN  THE  SAN  GABRIEL  VALLEY,  NEAR  RIVERSIDE,  CALIFORNIA 212 

Photo  from  the  Los  Angeles  Chamber  of  Commerce 

LOOKING  NORTH  FROM  PASADENA,  CALIFORNIA 213 

Photo  by  F.  W.  Martin,  Pasadena 

MT.  RUBIDOUX  ON  EASTER  MORNING,  NEAR  RIVERSIDE,  CALIFORNIA  216 

Photo  by  J.  C.  Milligan 

CENTRAL  PARK,  Los  ANGELES,  CALIFORNIA 21G 

Photo  by  Graham  Photo  Company,  Los  Angeles 

KEARNEY  AVENUE,  FRESNO,  CALIFORNIA 222 

Photo  by  C.  Laval,  Fresno 

MORO  ROCK,  SEQUOIA  NATIONAL  PARK,  CALIFORNIA 222 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

THE  GENERAL  GRANT  TREE 223 

NEAR  HUNTINGDON  LAKE,  CALIFORNIA 223 

Photo  by  C.  Laval,  Fresno 

ON  THE  WAY  TO  HUNTINGDON  LAKE 224 

Photo  by  C.  Laval,  Fresno 

FOREST  FIRE  OF  1918  FROM  WAWONA  POINT 224 

BRIDAL  VEIL  MEADOW,  YOSEMITE  NATIONAL  PARK 225 

Photo  by  H.  C.  Tibbetts,  San  Francisco 

MIRROR  LAKE,  YOSEMITE  NATIONAL  PARK 225 

AVALON  BAY,  CATALINA  ISLAND 226 

Photo  by  H.  C.  Tibbetts,  San  Francisco 

ON  THE  RUGGED  PACIFIC  SHORE 228 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

THE  PINNACLES,  SANTA  CLARA  COUNTY,  CALIFORNIA 228 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

A  BIT  OF  THE  BEACH  AT  SANTA  BARBARA,  CALIFORNIA 229 

CORMORANT  ROCKS  NEAR  MONTEREY,  CALIFORNIA 230 

Photo  from  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  New  York 

NATURAL  BRIDGE  ON  THE  COAST  AT  SANTA  CRUZ,  CALIFORNIA 230 

IN  THE  SANTA  CLARA  VALLEY,  CALIFORNIA 231 

IN  SAN  FRANCISCO 232 

Photo  by  H.  C.  Tibbette,  San  Franoiaco 

MOUNT  TAMALPAIS,  CALIFORNIA 233 

MOUNT  SHASTA,  CALIFORNIA 236 

,'.         Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

14 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

KLAMATH  VALLEY,  OREGON;  MOUNT  STUCHEL  IN  BACKGROUND  ....  242 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

CRATER  LAKE  ON  MOUNT  MAZAMA,  OREGON 243 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

NORTH  FORK  OP  ROGUE  RIVER,  OREGON 246 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

WHITE  PELICANS,  KLAMATH  LAKE 247 

Photo  from  American  Museum  of  Natural  History,  New  York 

PAULINA  FALLS,  NEAR  NEWBERRY  CRATER,  OREGON 247 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

LAVA  LAKE,  THE  THREE  SISTERS,  AND  BACHELOR  BUTTE,  OREGON  .  252 
Photo  by  A.  G.  Jackson,  United  States  Forest  Service 

"  CHOOSE  YOUR  FISH,"  LAKE  CHELAN 252 

Photo  by  A.  G.  Jackson 

COLUMNAR  BASALT  CLIFFS 254 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

THE  HORSESHOE,  DESCHUTES  RIVER  CANYON 255 

r  Photo  by  Winter  Photo  Company,  Portland 

VISTA  HOUSE,  CROWN  POINT,  COLUMBIA  RIVER  HIGHWAY 258 

Photo  by  Gifford  and  Prentiss,  Portland 

INTERIOR  OF  MITCHELL'S  POINT  TUNNELS,  COLUMBIA  RIVER  HIGHWAY  259 

Photo  by  Gifford  Studio,  Portland 

WILLAMETTE  VALLEY,  NEAR  NEWBURG,  OREGON 259 

Photo  by  United  States  Geological  Survey 

PORTLAND,  OREGON;  MOUNT  HOOD  IN  THE  DISTANCE 260 

Photo  by  Gifford  Studio,  Portland 

WILD  ELK  ON  HOH  RIVER,  OLYMPIC  FOREST 264 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

LOOKING  WEST  ON  LAKE  CRESCENT,  WASHINGTON 265 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

MOUNT  RAINIER,  FROM  SPRAY  PARK 268 

Photo  copyright,  1903,  by  W.  P.  Romans 

ON  THE  TOBOGGAN,  PARADISE  PARK,  MOUNT  RAINIER 269 

THE  ORIGIN  OF  A  GLACIER 270 

Photo  by  J.  G.  McCurdy,  Port  Townsend,  Washington 

ON  THE  TRAIL,  WASHINGTON 272 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

ENTRANCE   DENNY  CREEK  CAMP  GROUND,  SNOQUALMIB  NATIONAL 
FOREST 272 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

15 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

PACK  TRAIN,  LOADED 273 

Photo  by  United  States  Forest  Service 

GETTING  BREAKFAST,  BLEWETT  PASS  HIGHWAY,  WASHINGTON 273 

Photo  by  A.  G.  Jackson,  United  States  Forest  Service 

SNOQUALMIE  FALLS,  WASHINGTON 278 

Photo  copyright,  1915,  by  Asahel  Curtis,  Seattle 

ON  LAKE  KECHEELUS,  WASHINGTON 280 

IN  LYMAN  PASS,  LAKE  CHELAN,  WASHINGTON 280 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

BRIDGE  CREEK,  CHELAN  COUNTY,  WASHINGTON 281 

Photo  by  Frank  Palmer,  Spokane 

THE  NARROWS,  SPOKANE  RIVER,  WASHINGTON 281 

Photo  by  Frank  Palmer,  Spokane 

ALONG  THE  TRUCKEE   RIVER,  NEAR  LAKE  TAHOE,  CALIFORNIA 284 

Photo  by  Putnam  and  Valentine,  Los  Angeles 

PINE  CANYON  ON  THE  SUNSET  HIGHWAY 284 

PHANTOM  CANYON  HIGHWAY,  CANON  CITY,  COLORADO 285 

ROOSEVELT  ROAD,  ARIZONA 285 

Photo  by  United  States  Reclamation  Service 

MAPS 

RELIEF  MAP  SHOWING  SURFACE  FEATURES  OF  THE  WESTERN  PART 

OF  THE  UNITED  STATES 16 

Courtesy  of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey 

NATIONAL  FORESTS  OP  THE  WEST End 

THE  NATIONAL  PARKS  AND  NATIONAL  MONUMENTS  OF  THE  WEST.  . .  End 

Courtesy  of  the  United  States  Geological  Survey 


The  illustration  on  the  title  page  is  of  the  Mission  at 
Santa  Barbara,  California. 

The  illustration  on  the  cover  is  of  Heart  Lake,  Olympic 
National  Forest,  Washington. 


L_ 

RELIEF  MAP  SHOWING  SURFACE  FEATURES  OF  THE  WESTERN  PART  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  WALLS  OF  PARADISE 

PIKE'S  PEAK   AND   BEYOND 

Nature  reveals  her  deepest,  grandest  moods 
Within  its  vast  unpeopled  solitudes; 
And  when  the  purple  night's  calm  mista  are  drifting, 
A  sense  of  the  divine)  about  it  broods. 

And  he  who  treads  the  lofty  land  alone, 
Will  feel,  while  clouds  are  round  him.  rent  and  blown, 
Standing  amid  the  dumb  crags,  skyward  lifting, 
A  little  nearer  God's  celestial  throne. 

— CLINTON  SOOLLARD. 


P 


(4  |  "^ LEASE  don't  speak!    This  is  not  for  words, 
but  for  worship ! ' ' 

One  who  has  the  privilege  of  standing  on  the 
summit  of  Pike 's  Peak,  14,109  feet  above  the  sea,  is  apt 
to  feel  hearty  sympathy  with  the  hero  of  the  novelist 
who  thus  quieted  a  garrulous  companion.  He  seems  to 
be  on  the  roof  of  the  world.  In  the  clear  atmosphere  it 
is  possible  to  see  an  area  larger  than  all  of  Pennsylvania 
or  New  York  or  Illinois.  On  three  sides  are  multitudes  of 
snow-capped  peaks,  now  crowded  together,  again  widely 
separated,  while  to  the  east  the  eye  reaches  out  to  the 
endless  plains  of  Kansas.  There  are  canyons,  river 
valleys,  mountain  passes,  mining  districts,  upland  val 
leys,  all  the  way  from  the  regions  beyond  Denver  to  the 
glorious  mountains  and  meadows  of  San  Luis  Park.  At 

2  17 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

CHAPTER  I 
THE  WALLS  OF  PARADISE 

PIKE'S  PEAK   AND   BEYOND 

Nature  reveals  her  deepest,  grandest  moods 

Within  its  vast  unpeopled  solitudes; 

And  when  the  purple  night's  calm  mista  are  drifting, 

A  sense  of  the  divine)  about  it  broods. 

And  he  \vhoi  treads  the  lofty  land  alone, 
Will  feel,  while  clouds  are  round  him  rent  and  blown, 
Standing  amid  the  dumb  crags,  skyward  lifting, 
A  little  nearer  God's  celestial  throne. 

— CLINTON  SOOLLABD. 

64  |  ^\ LEASE  don't  speak!    This  is  not  for  words, 

hut  for  worship ! ' ' 

-*-  One  who  has  the  privilege  of  standing  on  the 
summit  of  Pike 's  Peak,  14,109  feet  above  the  sea,  is  apt 
to  feel  hearty  sympathy  with  the  hero  of  the  novelist 
who  thus  quieted  a  garrulous  companion.  He  seems  to 
be  on  the  roof  of  the  world.  In  the  clear  atmosphere  it 
is  possible  to  see  an  area  larger  than  all  of  Pennsylvania 
or  New  York  or  Illinois.  On  three  sides  are  multitudes  of 
snow-capped  peaks,  now  crowded  together,  again  widely 
separated,  while  to  the  east  the  eye  reaches  out  to  the 
endless  plains  of  Kansas.  There  are  canyons,  river 
valleys,  mountain  passes,  mining  districts,  upland  val 
leys,  all  the  way  from  the  regions  beyond  Denver  to  the 
glorious  mountains  and  meadows  of  San  Luis  Park.  At 
2  17 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

the  observer's  feet  are  the  bare  rocks,  reaching  down 
thousands  of  feet  to  timber  line,  where  begins  the  Pike 
National  Forest,  "  whose  towering  pines,  from  this  alti 
tude,  seem  like  blades  of  grass. " 

Near  at  hand  is  the  lonely  station  of  the  United 
States  Signal  Service,  whose  observers,  for  a  brief 
period,  once  thought  they  were  to  share  their  vigil  with 
the  astronomers  in  charge  of  the  Bryden  Fund  Observa 
tory,  for  which  Harvard  College  was  seeking  a  location. 
Gladly  the  observers  received  the  explorers  of  the  col 
lege  as  they  reached  the  summit  with  their  burros,  laden 
with  mysterious  equipment.  Curiously  they  watched 
the  setting  up  of  the  gigantic  telescope,  a  mere  frame 
of  timber  with  huge  lens  and  eye-piece.  Eagerly  they 
waited  for  the  result  of  the  experiments,  and  sadly  they 
heard  the  word  that  the  conditions  of  the  atmosphere 
were  not  favorable,  that  the  search  for  a  location 
must  be  continued  elsewhere — a  search  that  was  not 
ended  until  the  ideal  site  was  found  in  1891  at  Are- 
quipa,  Peru. 

Among  the  reasons  for  the  astronomers'  rejection 
of  the  Pike 's  Peak  location  were  the  frequent  thunder 
storms.  But,  while  these  storms  seriously  disturb  the 
atmosphere,  so  that  accurate  observations  of  the 
heavens  cannot  be  made,  they  are  one  of  the  attractions 
of  the  summit.  At  times  they  cause  a  wonderful  dis 
play,  so  that  the  observers  in  the  signal  station  have 
the  pleasure  of  playing  hide  and  seek  with  the  elusive 
lightning  and  associating  on  intimate  terms  with  "  ane 
mometer  cups  that  look  like  circles  of  fire." 

Those  who  come  toward  Pike's  Peak  from  the  East 
will  agree  that  the  mountain  is  as  elusive  as  the  light 
ning.  They  may  think  they  have  it  almost  under  their 

18    " 


SKIING    IN    THE    ROCKY    MOUNTAINS 


THE   WALLS  OF  PARADISE 

hand,  but  they  are  disappointed  in  a  manner  that  has 
become  familiar  to  all  who  visit  the  clear,  deceptive  air 
of  Colorado.  From  the  car  window  the  Peak  seems  to 
be  close  at  hand  even  at  La  Junta,  one  hundred  miles 
away,  while  from  Colorado  Springs  one  thinks  it  is  only 
a  step  to  the  slopes  that  lead  to  the  snowy  crest,  though 
the  distance  is  still  fifteen  miles.  Day  after  day  the 
emigrants  in  their  slow-moving  wagons  thought  that 
the  next  day  would  surely  enable  them  to  ease  their  fever 
in  the  atmosphere  of  the  cool  mountain,  and  many  of 
them  must  have  felt  like  that  disgusted  one  of  their  num 
ber  who  said,  "I  don't  believe  Pike  has  any  peak." 

Those  emigrants  might  have  taken  comfort  from  the 
fact  that  the  first  white  man  who  has  left  a  record  of 
his  visit  to  the  neighborhood  of  Pike's  Peak  made  the 
same  mistake.  On  November  15, 1806,  while  leading  his 
expedition  for  the  mapping  of  the  Arkansas  and  Eed 
Eivers,  Lieutenant  Zebulon  Pike  first  saw  a  great  moun 
tain  that  looked  like  a  blue  cloud.  As  he  approached 
it,  he  marveled  at  its  white  sides,  which  seemed  to  be 
covered  with  snow  or  a  white  stone. 

" Three  cheers  for  the  Mexican  Mountains!"  the 
men  of  the  expedition  shouted,  while  their  leader  noted 
that  the  mountains  formed  a  natural  boundary  between 
Louisiana  and  New  Mexico ;  for  at  that  time  the  moun 
tain  now  known  as  Pike's  Peak  was  just  within  the 
angle  formed  by  the  boundary  line  of  Mexico  as  it  turned 
north  toward  the  Grand  Eiver  and  east  toward  the 
plains.  Indeed,  the  border  was  so  close  that  Pike  soon 
crossed  it  unwittingly  and  was  led  by  Mexican  soldiers 
to  Santa  Fe,  and  from  there  out  of  the  country. 

The  day  after  catching  sight  of  the  snowy  peak  the 
expedition  hurried  on,  sure  that  the  goal  would  be 

19 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

reached  before  night.  But  they  proceeded  for  four 
days  more,  each  morning  thinking  that  night  would 
find  them  at  the  apparently  receding  mountain.  Finally, 
after  a  pause  on  the  present  site  of  Pueblo,  Pike  thought 
that  there  would  be  ample  time  between  one  in  the 
afternoon  and  sunset  to  reach  the  slopes  of  the  Blue 
Mountain,  as  he  called  it.  Two  days  later  he  was  climb 
ing  Cheyenne  Mountain,  miles  away  from  his  goal, 
though  he  thought  he  had  reached  it.  The  night  was 
passed  in  a  cave  near  the  summit.  In  the  morning 
he  wrote : 

Arose  hungry,  thirsty,  and  extremely  sore,  from 
the  unevenness  of  the  rocks  on  which  we  had  lain  all 
night,  but  was  amply  compensated  for  'our  toil  by  the 
sublimity  of  the  prospects  below.  The  unbounded 
prairie  was  overhung  with  clouds,  which  appeared  like 
the  ocean  in  a  storm,  wave  piled  on  wave,  and  foaming, 
whilst  the  sky  over  our  heads  was  perfectly  clear.  Com 
menced  our  march  up  the  mountain,  and  in  about  an 
hour  arrived  at  the  summit  of  the  chain ;  here  we  found 
the  snow  middle  deep  and  discovered  no  sign  of  beast 
or  bird  inhabiting  the  region.  The  summit  of  the  Grand 
Peak,  which  was  entirely  bare  of  vegetation,  and  cov 
ered  with  snow,  now  appeared  at  the  distance  of  fifteen 
or  sixteen  miles  from  us,  and  as  high  as  that  we  had 
ascended;  it  would  have  taken  a  whole  day's  march 
to  have  arrived  at  the  base,  when  I  believe  no  human 
being  could  have  arrived  at  its  summit. 

A  few  days  later  Pike  took  the  altitude  of  the  peak. 
He  called  it  18,581  feet.  Surely  he  could  be  excused  for 
his  error,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  as  late  as  1836  govern 
ment  surveyors  insisted,  after  visiting  the  Eocky  Moun 
tain  region,  that  many  of  the  peaks  were  at  least  25,000 
feet  high,  " being  exceeded  only  by  the  Himalayas." 
20 


THE   WALLS  OF  PARADISE 

The  error  of  Pike  in  declaring  that  the  peak  that  now 
bears  his  name  could  not  be  climbed,  and  in  feeling 
that  this  did  not  really  make  much  difference,  since 
white  men  would  never  wish  to  dispute  the  Indians' 
claim  to  this  sterile  mountain  district,  persisted  for 
many  years.  In  1836  Captain  Bonneville,  after  speak 
ing  of  the  region  as  "an  immense  belt  of  rocky  moun 
tains  and  volcanic  planes,  several  hundred  miles  in 
width,"  said  that  they  "must  ever  remain  an  irreclaim 
able  wilderness,  intervening  between  the  abodes  of 
civilization,  and  affording  a  last  refuge  to  the  Indian. ' ' 
He  proposed  to  leave  this  rich  country  to  '  '  roving  tribes 
of  hunters,  living  in  huts  or  lodges,  and  following  the 
migration  of  the  game. ' '  There  would  be  nothing  there 
"to  tempt  the  cupidity  of  the  white  man." 

Only  a  little  more  than  twelve  years  after  Pike  gave 
his  opinion  that  the  Blue  Mountain  could  not  be  sur 
mounted,  Dr.  Edwin  F.  James  succeeded  in  reaching 
the  summit,  and  in  looking  down  on  the  wonderful  pano 
rama  that  repaid  all  the  toil  of  the  climb.  He  called 
the  mountain  James'  Peak,  but  fortunately  the  name 
Pike's  Peak  was  later  given  to  it. 

For  many  years  there  was  nothing  but  a  single 
trail  for  those  who  ventured  to  follow  in  the  footsteps 
of  James.  Then  came  a  better  trail,  up  Euxton  Creek. 
Few  use  the  old  trail  to-day,  but  the  joy  in  store  for 
those  who  have  the  courage  to  try  it  is  apt  to  be  greater 
than  that  of  any  who  toil  up  the  carriage  road,  who 
ride  up  the  cog  railway,  or  who  take  the  exhilarating 
ride  up  the  double  track  motor  highway  first  used 
in  1916. 

Those  who  would  use  the  most  wonderful  of  all 
motor  roads  should  start  from  Colorado  Springs,  ride 

21 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

up  historic  Ute  Pass,  and  along  the  foaming  Fountain 
Creek.  At  Cascade  is  the  real  beginning  of  the  Pike's 
Peak  Highway.  From  there  the  road  rises  6694  feet 
in  the  eighteen  miles  to  the  summit. 

Above  Cascade  were  difficulties  that  engineers  said 
could  not  be  solved,  but  the  road  was  successfully  cut 
through  the  granite  ledge,  and,  at  a  distance  of  fourteen 
miles  from  the  beginning  of  the  highway  in  Ute  Pass,  it 
reached  the  crest  of  the  Eampart  Eange  after  what  has 
been  called  a  series  of  ten  immense  swings,  forming 
two  W's,  with  two  swings  preceding  and  two  following. 
Three  miles  farther  on  is  the  summit. 

Who  cares  to  dwell  on  details  of  the  construction  of 
the  six  bridges,  whose  floors  are  of  steel  beams  and 
concrete,  or  to  think  of  the  solid  masonry  parapets,  and 
the  hundred  and  one  other  excellences  of  this  marvel  of 
road-making,  while  he  can  think  instead  of  the  awe- 
inspiring  vision  from  the  chief  summit  of  a  ridge  which 
Nym  Crinkle,  a  writer  of  a  past  generation,  called  the 
Walls  of  Paradise?  From  there,  it  has  been  said, 
"more  miles  of  mountain  and  plain  may  be  seen  than 
from  any  other  point  on  the  globe  reached  by  automo 
bile.  ' '  There  is  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  range,  and  here 
are  the  Spanish  Peaks.  Over  yonder  is  Leadville  on 
its  granite  foundation.  To  the  north  lies  Denver,  with 
the  great  peaks  of  the  Front  Eange.  Down  below  are 
Colorado  Springs  and  Manitou,  looking  like  toy  vil 
lages.  Off  to  the  south  Pueblo  holds  the  gaze  an  in 
stant,  while  far  beyond  are  those  fertile  plains  which 
Washington  Irving  said  would  probably  be  inhabited 
in  the  future  by  a  hybrid  race  made  up  of  Indians  and 
fugitives  from  justice.  And  far  to  the  west  are  moun 
tains  from  whose  sides  flow  the  rivers  that  have  been 
22 


THE   WALLS   OF   PARADISE 

harnessed  for  the  watering  of  lands  which,  but  for  them, 
would  have  become  fit  only  for  the  habitation  of  the 
"wasting  and  uncivilized  aborigines,"  who,  Pike  was 
sure,  would  possess  them  forever. 

Only  four  or  five  hours  are  required  for  the  journey 
from  Colorado  Springs  to  the  summit  from  which  all 
these  things  may  be  seen,  and  for  the  return  trip  to 
the  foot  of  "the  Walls  of  Paradise. "  But  into  these 
hours  on  the  uplands  may  be  crowded  joys  that  will  be 
present  through  many  years  of  life  on  the  lower  levels. 


CHAPTER  II 

UNDER  THE  WALLS  OF  PARADISE 
IN  THE  PIKE'S  PEAK  REGION 

ONE  day  in  1871,  when  some  of  those  interested 
in  the  railroad  from  Denver  to  the  region  east 
of  Pike's  Peak  were  exploring  in  advance  of 
the  road  builders,  they  came  to  a  commanding  site 
whose  outlook  to  the  west  on  the  foothills  and  the  great 
sentinel  mountains,  and  to  the  southeast  on  the  sloping 
plains,  so  impressed  them  that  they  decided  they  must 
have  a  town  there.  So  they  took  the  steps  that  led  to  the 
building  of  Colorado  Springs,  the  city  that  stands  at  the 
gateway  of  what  has  been  called  the  most  marvelous 
range  of  scenery  to  be  found  in  narrow  compass  in  all 
the  world.  Dark  canyons,  yawning  caves,  graceful 
waterfalls,  rugged  mountain  peaks,  and  towering  cliffs 
are  so  abundant  that  the  visitor  is  dazed  by  their  num 
ber  and  overpowered  by  their  magnificence. 

Once  Bayard  Taylor,  after  gazing  in  rapt  wonder 
at  the  prospect  spread  before  him  from  a  point  close 
to  the  city,  said: 

In  variety  and  harmony  of  form,  in  effect  against 
the  dark  blue  sky,  in  breadth  and  grandeur,  I  know  of 
no  external  feature  of  the  Alps  which  can  be  placed 
beside  it.  If  you  could  take  away  the  valley  of  the 
Ehone,  and  unite  the  Alps  of  Savoy  with  the  Bernese 
Oberland,  you  might  attain  a  tolerable  idea  of  the 
Eocky  Mountains.  Nowhere  distorted  or  grotesque, 
never  monotonous,  lovely  in  form  and  atmospheric 
effect,  I  may  recall  some  mountain  chains  which  equal, 
but  none  which  surpass  these. 

24 


UNDER   THE    WALLS   OF   PARADISE 

From  Ute  Pass  beautiful  Fountain  Creek  flows  to 
the  plain  where  Colorado  Springs  has  her  seat,  a  plain 
almost  as  high  above  the  sea  as  the  summit  of  Mount 
Washington.  From  the  broad  streets  there  are  inspir 
ing  views  of  the  amphitheater  of  mountains  that  give 
mute  invitation  to  a  series  of  drives  and  explorations, 
and  the  traveler  wishes  for  weeks  instead  of  days  in 
this  favored  spot. 

Until  1917  Colorado  Springs  shared  with  two  other 
cities  the  wonders  of  her  situation  "under  the  Walls 
of  Paradise/'  During  that  year  Colorado  City  became 
a  part  of  Colorado  Springs,  and  now  Manitou  only  is 
left  as  a  separate  municipality.  But  it  would  be  a 
mistake  to  permit  the  history  of  Colorado  City  to  be 
forgotten.  It  is  one  of  the  oldest  settlements  in  Colo 
rado,  having  been  laid  out  in  1859.  At  first  the  name 
was  Oldtown.  It  was  the  earliest  capital  of  the  terri 
tory,  and  had  the  honor  of  receiving  the  state  legislature 
before  that  body  sought  Golden  and  Denver. 

Manitou  lies  near  the  entrance  of  Ute  Pass,  where 
the  Indians  had  a  trail  that  led  into  the  heart  of  the 
mountains.  Down  this  trail  they  came  with  their  inva 
lids,  seeking  the  healing  mineral  springs,  which,  in 
gratitude  to  the  Great  Spirit,  they  called  "Manitou." 

The  great  pillars  of  sandstone  that  provide  an  en 
trance  to  the  Garden  of  the  Gods  are  at  some  distance 
from  Manitou.  These  curious  pinnacles,  one  of  which 
is  three  hundred  feet  high,  while  the  other  is  three 
hundred  and  fifty  feet,  give  a  good  introduction  to  the 
weird  weathered  rock  forms  of  a  region  that  may  not 
be  a  garden,  and  certainly  has  in  it  nothing  to  remind 
the  visitor  of  gods,  yet  has  a  fascination  that  cannot  be 
withstood.  Guides  have  taken  it  upon  themselves  to 

*  25 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

name  the  rocks  of  the  garden,  in  accordance  with  their 
own  interpretation  of  their  likeness  to  animals  and 
natural  objects.  But  the  visitor  should  feel  that  he  has 
just  as  much  right  to  give  names  to  the  forms  according 
to  his  imagination.  Differences  of  opinion  will  but  add 
attraction  to  the  visit.  It  may  be  that  some  one  will 
think  a  certain  rock  is  like  a  lion,  while  the  very  next 
visitor  will  be  just  as  sure  that  it  is  a  perfect  likeness 
of  a. turkey.  But  what  of  that?  The  Indians  probably 
had  altogether  different  names  for  the  formations  in 
the  park,  for  this  was  one  of  the  places  which  they 
delighted  to  visit. 

Among  other  secrets  of  this  wonderland  known  long 
ago  to  the  Indians,  but  only  in  recent  years  to  their 
white  successors,  were  the  caves  on  the  heights  far  back 
of  the  Garden  of  the  Gods.  One  of  these  is  in  Williams 
Canyon,  while  the  other,  the  much  more  extensive  Cave 
of  the  Winds,  is  on  the  forbidding  face  of  the  canyon's 
limestone  cliffs.  These  caves  are  connected  by  a  pleas 
ing  story.  It  is  related  that  the  pastor  of  a  Colorado 
Springs  church  organized  an  exploring  society  among 
his  boys.  One  day  he  led  his  charges  toward  a  cave  in 
Williams  Canyon,  then  little  known,  of  which  they  had 
heard.  The  owner,  however,  looked  askance  at  the  com 
pany.  '  '  Very  well,  boys,  let  us  find  a  cave  of  our  own, ' ' 
was  the  leader's  comforting  word.  The  surprising  part 
of  the  story  is  that  within  an  hour  they  found  the  way 
to  the  Cave  of  the  Winds,  word  of  whose  extensive 
chambers  and  beautiful  formation  the  boys  carried  back 
that  night  to  their  own  comrades. 

Williams  Canyon,  whose  walls  are  frequently  so 
close  together  that  carriages  cannot  pass  there,  is  but 
one  of  the  numerous  canyons  converging  at  Manitou, 
20 


WILLIAMS    CANON,    NORTH    OF    MANITOU,    COLORADO 


UNDER  THE   WALLS  OF  PARADISE 

made  accessible  by  the  many  marvelous  roads  that  lead 
out  of  Colorado  Springs  to  all  parts  of  the  park  system 
of  a  city  that  has  wisely  made  a  playground  of  almost 
everything  in  sight. 

Up  one  of  the  canyons  reached  from  Manitou  leads 
the  Crystal  Park  auto  road.  By  tremendous  zigzags 
it  climbs  Sutherland  Canyon,  where  Pike  the  explorer 
succeeded  in  outwitting  pursuing  Indians,  up  the  rugged 
slope  of  Eagle  Mountain,  to  a  point  under  Cameron 's 
Cone.  Loops,  hairpin  turns,  and  a  steel  turntable  help 
in  the  conquest  of  the  mountain.  The  road  affords 
views  so  different  from  those  spread  out  before  those 
who  go  to  the  summit  of  Pike's  Peak  that  both  trips 
are  needed  to  complete  the  vision  that  waits  for  those 
who  would  persuade  the  Walls  of  Paradise  to  yield 
their  secrets. 

A  third  trip  should  be  taken  before  the  Pike's  Peak 
region  is  left  behind.  This  is  by  the  Cripple  Creek 
Short  Line,  from  Colorado  Springs  to  the  central  town 
of  the  richest  gold-producing  region  in  the  world.  The 
air-line  distance  is  less  than  twenty  miles,  but  the  train 
covers  fifty  miles  in  making  a  journey  that  justifies 
even  such  superlatives  as  "the  trip  that  bankrupts  the 
English  language."  By  twists  and  turns  innumerable, 
by  tunnels  and  bridges  and  steep  inclines,  by  loops  and 
bends  and  curves,  by  climbing  ridges  and  by  exploring 
ravines,  the  road  conquers  the  labyrinth  of  the  mountain 
barriers  and  reaches  the  land  of  gold. 

The  Cripple  Creek  road  leads  through  a  country  that 
was  the  delight  of  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  the  novelist. 
It  crosses  the  head  both  of  North  Cheyenne  Canyon  and 
South  Cheyenne  Canyon,  where  she  persisted  in  roam 
ing,  even  though  the  sight  of  a  woman  in  these  mountain 

27 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

fastnesses  startled  those  whom  she  encountered.  She 
did  not  stop  with  startling  men.  Once,  in  this  district, 
a  camper's  dog  ran  from  her  in  terror.  In  vain  she 
tried  to  coax  the  animal  to  approach  her.  "It's  no 
use,  ma'am,"  the  owner  explained;  "you  see,  that 
dog's  never  seen  a  woman  before." 

The  walls  of  these  twin  canyons,  frequently  very 
close  together,  are  from  a  thousand  to  fifteen  hundred 
feet  high.  In  both  canyons  are  numerous  waterfalls. 
The  Seven  Falls  of  South  Canyon  and  the  Pillars  of 
Hercules  are  notable  features. 

Immediately  south  of  the  twin  canyons  is  Cheyenne 
Mountain,  the  peak  which  Pike  succeeded  in  climbing 
when  he  thought  he  was  on  the  way  to  the  much  higher 
peak  to  the  north.  Mrs.  Jackson  felt  that  Pike  had 
chosen  the  better  mountain;  she  knew  Pike's  Peak,  but 
she  took  keener  pleasure  in  climbing  Cheyenne  Moun 
tain,  declaring  that  the  real  glories  of  mountain  scenery 
are  independent  of  height. 

On  one  of  her  trips  to  Cheyenne  Mountain  the  novel 
ist  nature-lover  was  attracted  by  a  grave  of  which 
she  wrote : 

It  lies,  with  four  pines  guarding  it  closely,  on  a 
westward  slope  which  holds  the  very  last  rays  of  the 
setting  sun.  We  look  up  from  it  to  the  glorious  snow- 
topped  peaks  which  pierce  the  sky,  and  the  way  seems 
very  short  over  which  our  friend  has  gone. 

Her  thoughts  turned  to  that  lonely  grave  on  the 
mountainside  when  she  was  dying,  and  in  response  to 
her  wish  she  was  buried  not  far  from  the  highest  of  the 
falls  in  South  Cheyenne  Canyon.  Louise  Chandler 
Moulton  wrote  of  the  request : 

28 


UNDER  THE    WALLS   OF   PARADISE 

To  Cheyenne  Pass,  she  dying,  whispered — 
Take  me  there,  where  the  strong  sun  will  find 
Me  in  the  morns,  and  in  the  silent  nights 
The  stars  bend  over  me,  as  if  aware 
Their  friend  is  kindred  with  their  fires  who  watched 
them  long. 

The  roaring  mountain  birds  will  scream 
Above  me,  flying  toward  the  light,  unscared. 
Free  things  will  trample  round  the  lonely  spot 
Where  rests  my  heart,  of  old  untamed  as  they, 
But  quiet  with  Death's  quietness  at  last. 

Take  me  to  Cheyenne  Pass,  and  lay  me  there, 
Within  the  mountains '  steadfast  heart ;  and  leave  me 
Neighbored  by  the  wild  things  and  the  clouds, 
And  still  in  death  beneath  the  deathless  sky. 

But  the  day  came  when  it  seemed  best  to  move  the 
grave  to  the  cemetery  on  the  plain  below,  for  tourists 
persisted  in  their  quest  of  souvenirs  in  the  chosen  spot. 
So  the  body  lies  within  the  shadow  of  the  mountain  and 
the  canyon  which  she  loved  so  well. 


CHAPTER  III 
ALLURING  CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

IN  Colorado  events  of  the  year  1870  are  ancient 
history ;  stories  of  1860  go  back  to  primeval  times ; 
and  suspicion  of  a  man's  veracity  is  aroused  if 
he  has  too  much  to  say  of  such  an  improbable  date  as 
1857.  For  the  Keystone  State  of  the  Mountains  has 
not  yet  passed  a  commonwealth's  period  of  first  youth. 

To  be  sure,  when  Colorado  desires  to  claim  a  place 
in  the  company  of  those  gray-beard  states  whose  first 
settlers  took  root  within  their  borders  in  the  days  when 
the  nation  was  young,  it  is  always  possible  to  point  to 
Pueblo,  with  the  statement  that  the  name  is  a  reminder 
of  the  Mexicans  who  had  their  houses  of  adobe  there 
long  before  Pike  sought  his  peak  or  Fremont  took  to 
pathfinding  in  the  Eockies,  and  that  Mormons  settled 
there  for  a  time  in  1846.  But  the  day  of  the  coming  of 
the  first  American  townbuilders  was  then  a  long  way  off. 

It  is  easy  to  reel  off  figures  about  the  Pittsburgh 
of  the  West,  which  turns  out  more  than  half  of  the  goods 
manufactured  in  all  of  Colorado,  and  has  a  factory  pay 
roll  of  two  million  dollars  a  month.  But  it  is  so  much 
more  picturesque  to  speak  of  the  magnificent  faith  of 
the  promoters  of  1874  who  sowed  the  East  with  a 
pamphlet  declaring,  "  There  is  but  little  doubt  that  at 
this  point  will  stand  the  Great  Central  City  of  the  Far 
West,"  and  to  note  in  passing  that  to-day's  successors 
of  these  early  boomers  who  were  sure  of  the  region's 
tremendous  growth  have  inherited  the  ability  to  say 
large  things  of  the  city  because  they  are  perfectly  con- 
so 


ALLURING  CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

vinced  of  their  truth.  And  why  should  they  not  have 
vision  when  they  need  only  lift  their  eyes  to  the  west 
to  see  glorious  mountain  peaks  that  make  the  town's 
four  thousand  feet  of  altitude  seem  insignificant? 

The  men  who  laid  the  foundations  of  this  Gateway 
to  the  West  distinguished  the  site  by  approaching  the 
upper  portion  of  the  famous  Las  Animas  Land  Grant, 
a  relic  of  the  days  of  Mexican  rule,  whose  original 
owners  boasted  the  picturesque  names  Charles  Beaubien 
and  Guadeloupe  Miranda.  In  1841  the  governor  of 
New  Mexico  gave  to  them  more  than  twenty- six  hun 
dred  square  miles.  By  the  Treaty  of  1848  the  United 
States  agreed  to  respect  the  grant.  An  American, 
Lucien  Maxwell,  succeeded  to  the  ownership  by  marry 
ing  one  of  Sefior  Beaubien 's  six  daughters,  and  by  pur 
chase  of  the  rights  of  his  five  sisters-in-law  and  of 
Miranda.  It  is  said  that  he  paid  to  each  of  the  ladies 
from  three  to  six  thousand  dollars. 

For  a  few  years  Maxwell  had  the  distinction  of 
owning  more  land  than  any  one  else  in  the  world.  Yet 
he  was  willing,  in  1866,  to  resign  his  title  for  $75,000. 
He  must  have  been  glad  he  did  not  have  the  opportunity 
to  unload,  for  in  1870  he  was  given  $650,000  for  the  prop 
erty.  The  purchasers  made  a  good  bargain.  Within 
six  months  they  more  than  doubled  their  money.  After 
a  time  the  princely  domain  became  known  as  the  Max 
well  Land  Grant.  On  its  broad  reaches  farmers  have 
made  homes,  railroads  have  been  built,  and  coal  mines 
have  been  opened.  And  farms,  railroads  and  mines 
pay  heavy  tribute  to  the  city  that, — though  it  has  not  yet 
completely  borne  out  the  proud  boasts  of  its  pioneers, — 
is  now,  and  probably  will  continue  to  be,  the  second 
city  of  the  state. 

31 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Early  prospectors  in  Colorado  were  so  eager  to  find 
gold  that  they  did  not  care  to  see  the  coal  that  has 
brought  so  much  wealth  to  the  state.  Long  before  the 
gold  was  actually  found  travelers  talked  of  it.  A  book 
published  in  Cincinnati  only  about  ten  years  after  the 
exploration  of  Pike  made  some  appetizing  declarations : 

These  mountains  are  supposed  to  contain  minerals, 
precious  stones,  and  gold  and  silver  ore.  It  is  but  lately 
that  they  have  taken  the  name  Eocky  Mountains; 
by  all  the  old  travelers  they  were  called  the  Shining 
Mountains,  from  an  infinite  number  of  crystal  stones  of 
an  amazing  size,  with  which  they  are  covered,  and  which, 
when  the  sun  shines  upon  them,  sparkle  so  as  to  be  seen 
for  a  great  distance.  The  same  early  travelers  give  it 
as  their  opinion  that  in  future  these  mountains  would  be 
found  to  contain  more  riches  than  those  of  Hindustan 
and  Malabar,  or  the  golden  coast  of  Guinea,  or  the 
Mines  of  Peru. 

Yet  it  was  not  until  1858  that  two  young  men  from 
Lawrence,  Kansas,  told  of  finding  gold  near  the  base  of 
Pike 's  Peak,  and  it  was  two  years  later  when  prospec 
tors  found  rich  dust  in  California  Gulch,  near  the  pres 
ent  site  of  Leadville.  Soon  there  were  two  great  cen 
ters  of  mining  activity,  called  Old  Oro  and  Oro.  There 
was  then  so  little  water  for  washing  out  the  gravel  that 
this  was  used  many  times.  It  is  related  that  the  number 
of  mines  was  so  large,  and  the  amount  of  water  available 
was  so  small,  that  when  the  water  reached  the  last  man, 
after  use  by  each  miner  down  the  gulch  in  succession,  it 
was  nothing  but  liquid  mud. 

In  the  mad  rush  for  gold  the  miners  passed  by  an 
even  greater  source  of  wealth.  In  the  gulch  there  were 
many  boulders  in  the  way;  these  they  pushed  aside, 
thinking  of  them  only  as  impediments.  But  in  1876 

32 


ALLURING   CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

some  one  found  that  these  boulders  contained  deposits 
of  lead  carbonate,  which  was  rich  in  silver.  This  dis 
covery  was  made  on  the  hills  on  the  edge  of  what  soon 
became  known  as  Leadville.  Within  a  few  weeks  men 
and  supplies  were  pouring  into  the  new  camp  from 
Colorado  Springs,  by  way  of  Ute  Pass. 

" You'd  oughter  been  here  'bout  that  time,"  one  of 
the  picturesque  characters  who  took  freight  up  the 
pass  said  to  a  modern  traveler.  "Things  were  lively 
then,  I  tell  you.  "Why,  sir,  you  couldn't  a'  driv  up  the 
Pass  then  for  the  teams  there  was  goin'  an'  comin' 
all  the  while." 

Helen  Hunt  Jackson  was  one  of  the  early  visitors 
to  "the  loftiest  town  in  the  world,"  as  Leadville  was 
then  called,  by  reason  of  its  elevation  of  ten  thou 
sand  feet,  from  which  it  looks  out  on  Mount  Elbert  and 
Mount  Massive,  the  twin  peaks,  the  highest  in  the  state, 
whose  summits  reach  up  more  than  fourteen  thousand 
feet  into  the  snow.  She  told  of  finding  old  roads  leading 
to  the  town  alive ;  she  saw  sixty-two  wagons  during  the 
first  day's  journey  toward  the  camp.  i ' The  most  inter 
esting  thing  in  the  procession  was  the  human  element," 
wrote  this  early  traveler  up  Ute  Pass;  "families, 
father,  mother,  crowds  of  little  children,  bedsteads,  iron 
pots,  comforters,  chairs,  tables,  cooking-stoves,  cradles 
— wedged  into  small  wagons,  toiling  slowly  up  the  long 
hills,  all  going  to  Leadville  .  .  .  solitary  adven 
turers  whose  worldly  possessions  consisted  of  a  pack- 
mule,  a  bundle,  and  a  pickaxe,  and  adventurers,  still 
more  solitary,  with  only  the  bundle  and  pickaxe, 
and  no  mule." 

From  the  first  Leadville  has  had  to  contend  with 
many  difficulties.  It  is  so  high  that  it  is  apt  to  snow 

3  33 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

and  freeze  every  month  in  the  year.  It  was  long  thought 
impossible  to  keep  pigs  at  such  an  elevation.  These 
difficulties  would  seem  great  enough,  but  they  were 
nothing  in  comparison  to  the  trouble  of  securing  an 
adequate  supply  of  water. 

An  early  visitor  found  a  buxom  washerwoman  who 
had  solved  the  problem  to  her  satisfaction.  " Where  do 
you  get  your  water?"  she  was  asked.  "Oh,  I  'ire  my 
'usband  and  'is  partner  to  pack  it  up  'ere  for  me,"  she 
replied.  ' '  They  pack  up  all  my  wash  water,  and  I  keep 
them  in  tobacco.  That  *s  our  bargain. ' ' 

Such  primitive  methods  did  not  satisfy  everybody. 
An  enterprising  company  thought  that  here  was  a  good 
opportunity  to  make  dividends.  They  proceeded  to  lay 
mains.  Because  frost  in  winter  found  its  way  far  into 
the  ground,  it  was  necessary  to  put  the  pipes  six  feet 
below  the  surface.  But  the  early  houses  were  built 
on  piles,  without  foundation,  so  the  water  had  to  be  led 
up  many  feet  without  protection  from  the  weather  be 
fore  it  could  be  ready  for  use.  Of  course  a  freeze  came 
and  the  pipes  burst. 

But  Leadville  bravely  solved  her  difficulties  or  found 
a  way  to  bear  them.  Always  the  city  has  shown  the 
same  spirit  that  enabled  her,  in  1892,  when  the  price  of 
silver  was  too  low  for  profitable  mining,  to  discover 
the  source  of  the  gold  that  led  so  many  men  to  California 
Gulch  in  1860.  And  in  later  years  great  quantities  of 
zinc  and  copper  have  been  added  to  the  products  of 
the  district. 

A  writer  of  1879  thought  that  Leadville  was  a  city 
of  a  day,  like  many  of  the  mining  centers.  "So  long 
as  Leadville  fever  lasts"  .  .  .  "When  the  reaction 
comes,  as  it  does  come  in  all  these  mining  excitements" 

34 


ALLURING  CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

.  .  .  '  *  When  the  Leadville  mines  begin  to  dwindle  in 
yield,  and  the  frantic  throng  of  delvers  and  settlers 
turn  into  another  road" — these  were  among  the  predic 
tions  of  evil.  Yet  the  evil  days  have  not  come.  Lead 
ville  is  still  one  of  the  greatest  mineral  producers  in 
Colorado,  and  one  of  the  world *s  most  picturesque  cities. 

A  few  miles  east  of  Leadville  is  a  town  that  has  not 
had  such  a  fortunate  history,  though  it  has  a  pleasing 
name — Fair  Play.  Yet  that  attractive  name  did  not 
come  in  an  attractive  manner.  The  tradition  is  that 
"two  men  loved  one  woman.  The  man  whom  the 
woman  loved  deserted  her.  The  man  whom  the  woman 
did  not  love  followed  the  faithless  lover,  found  him,  un 
armed,  working  with  his  miner's  pick  on  the  banks  of  the 
Platte  Eiver.  The  avenger  pointed  his  rifle,  and  was 
about  to  fire.  But  the  runaway  held  up  his  hands. 
'  Fair  play !  Give  me  fair  play ! '  he  called.  So  he  was 
sent  for  his  rifle,  and  he  came  back  to  his  death. ' ' 

Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  who  told  this  story,  said  that 
one  day  she  asked  a  woman: 

"Do  you  like  living  in  Fair  Play!" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  in  much  badder  places,"  was  the 
chuckling  reply. 

"Where  was  that?" 

"Central.  But  that  hole-y  place;  if  go  out  house, 
you  is  under  mountain." 

Central  City,  of  which  the  woman  spoke,  is  in  the 
county  north  of  Fair  Play,  and  is  little  more  than  an 
hour's  ride  from  Denver;  yet  it  is  8300  feet  high,  fifty 
per  cent  higher  than  Denver.  The  road  from  Denver 
taken  by  early  seekers  for  gold  rose  at  one  point  six 
teen  hundred  feet  in  a  mile  and  a  half.  The  town  itself 
was  no  worse  than  the  approach  to  it. 

35 


SEEING   THE  FAR   WEST 

One  who  saw  it  in  the  days  of  the  pioneers  said: 

"The  houses  looked  like  bird  cages  hung  on  hooks, 
jutting  out  from  the  mountainsides.  Nearly  every 
house  was  reached  by  a  flight  of  stairs,  and  though  it 
might  be  two  or  three  stories  high  on  the  lower  side, 
there  would  be  an  entrance  on  the  level  with  the  top 
floor  on  the  upper  side." 

To-day  Central  City  people  are  able  to  smile  at  these 
stories  of  the  early  aspect  of  the  town,  but  they  rejoice 
in  their  advantageous  situation  in  the  midst  of  the  peaks 
that  made  access  so  difficult  at  that  time. 

Not  far  north  of  Central  City  is  a  town  as  ancient 
as  any  in  Colorado — Boulder,  an  educational  center 
remarkable  not  only  for  its  culture  but  for  its  own  par 
ticular  canyon,  the  Boulder  Canyon,  and  for  the  beauty 
of  the  Switzerland  Trail  that  leads  through  it  to  Neder- 
land,  eighteen  miles  southwest,  where  the  rare  tungsten 
ore  is  mined.  It  is  claimed  that  here  and  at  Eldora, 
a  few  miles  distant,  most  of  this  metal  produced  in  the 
United  States  is  secured. 

Another  source  of  Boulder's  prosperity  is  the  fertile 
irrigated  lands  almost  within  the  shadow  of  the  moun 
tains.  There  are  in  the  section  of  the  state  north  of 
Denver  a  number  of  these  irrigation  centers.  Perhaps 
the  most  remarkable  of  them,  both  because  of  its  his 
tory  and  because  of  its  present,  is  one  of  the  few  suc 
cessful  i  l  decreed ' '  towns  in  the  country.  It  was  Nathan 
Cook  Meeker  who  made  the  decree  that  was  responsible 
for  Greeley,  but  the  town  was  named  for  Meeker 's  chief 
on  the  New  York  Tribune,  Horace  Greeley.  Perhaps  it 
was  as  well  that  the  great  editor  was  not  at  the  head  of 
the  enterprise,  for  his  success  as  a  town  builder  was 

36 


ALLURING   CITIES  OF  THE   PIONEERS 

not  nearly  so  great  as  his  fame  as  an  editor.  Witness 
his  failure  in  Pike  County,  Pennsylvania! 

In  December,  1869,  many  of  the  readers  of  the  Tri 
bune  were  attracted  by  a  card  in  which  Meeker  told  of 
his  purpose  to  establish  a  colony  in  the  west.  The  invi 
tation  was  to  temperance  men  who  were  anxious  to 
establish  a  good  society.  The  response  was  gratifying. 
Each  applicant  was  required  to  pay  one  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  for  a  membership  certificate.  To  a  com 
mittee  was  committed  the  task  of  finding  a  suitable  loca 
tion.  A  section  in  "Wyoming  proved  quite  attractive  to 
the  committee,  but  they  at  length  fixed  on  a  part  of  what 
is  now  Weed  County,  Colorado.  It  has  seemed  to  some 
remarkable  that  this  choice  was  made,  for  the  land 
selected  did  not  present  an  inviting  appearance.  It 
was  barren  and  covered  with  cactus.  Most  people  would 
have  passed  it  by.  But  the  member  of  the  committee 
noted  that  it  was  located  in  the  delta  formed  by  the 
junction  of  the  Cache  la  Poudre,  which  has  been  called 
one  of  the  most  beautiful  torrents  in  Colorado,  and 
the  Platte  Eiver.  Then  there  were  also  the  valleys  of 
Big  Thompson  and  of  St.  Vrain.  Sharp  eyes  observed 
that  a  few  inches  of  earth  along  the  banks  of  the  stream 
bore  luxuriant  vegetation,  which  looked  the  greener 
because  of  the  contrast  with  the  surrounding  brown 
waste.  They  had  a  vision  of  the  whole  tract  watered 
from  the  streams  by  irrigation  and  made  fertile  as  the 
bits  along  the  streams. 

From  the  railroad  9324  acres  were  bought  for 
$31,058.  To  private  owners  $27,982  was  paid  for  2592 
acres.  The  United  States  provided  60,000  acres,  on 
which  the  first  filing  fee  was  $930.  Finally  a  contract 

37 


SEEING  THE  PAR  WEST 

was  made  with  the  railroad  for  50,000  acres  additional, 
to  be  bought,  if  desired,  at  from  three  to  four  dollars 
an  acre. 

In  1870  the  colonists  began  to  occupy  the  land.  Most 
of  them  came  from  New  England  and  New  York.  It 
was  not  a  part  of  the  plan  of  "The  Union  Colony  of 
Colorado"  to  have  community  of  property;  each  share 
holder  was  to  have  a  lot  in  the  town  and  to  cultivate 
ground  outside  of  it,  the  aim  being  "to  avoid  the  isola 
tion  of  American  farm  life  and  to  secure  the  advantage 
of  associated  effort."  With  their  other  privileges  the 
colonists  determined  to  have  the  intellectual  advan 
tages  they  had  enjoyed  in  the  East.  For  this  reason 
thirteen  thousand  dollars  was  soon  appropriated  for 
a  school  building. 

This  creation  of  a  New  England  town  meeting  trans 
planted  to  the  far  West  is  of  special  significance  in  the 
story  of  Colorado  because  the  appeal  was  made  to  those 
who  desired  to  live  by  land  cultivation,  whereas  other 
settlements  had  attracted  only  those  who  sought  a  for 
tune  in  the  mines  or  by  herding  cattle. 

Those  who  marvel  at  the  wonders  of  irrigation  in 
modern  days  in  Colorado  will  be  interested  in  the  fact 
that  the  first  attempts  to  irrigate  the  lands  of  the  Union 
Colony  were  not  very  successful.  Ditches  were  far  too 
small,  and  there  were  other  errors.  To  the  discourage 
ments  due  to  these  temporary  failures  others  were 
added.  Grasshoppers  ate  the  crops,  blizzards  raged, 
hailstones  fell.  But  at  length  prosperity  came.  To 
day  Greeley  looks  out  on  smiling  valleys  where  the  beet 
and  the  potato  are  king.  The  town  has  its  Potato  Day, 
just  as  Boulder  has  its  Strawberry  Day  •and  Rocky 
Ford  its  Melon  Day. 


ALLURING   CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

Meeker,  the  founder  of  the  colony,  refused  to  take 
advantage  of  opportunities  to  invest  in  lands,  and  years 
later  it  became  necessary  for  him  to  make  his  living 
as  Indian  Agent  at  White  Eiver,  now  Meeker,  Colorado. 
But  he  was  well  content.  Not  long  before  he  was  killed 
by  the  Utes  he  was  driving  with  a  friend  near  Greeley. 
As  they  reached  a  height  above  the  town  which  was  the 
child  of  his  best  efforts,  he  said,  simply : 

"  After  all,  although  the  enterprise  yielded  me  noth 
ing  in  riches,  in  a  worldly  sense,  yet  I  am  proud  to  have 
been  the  leader  in  such  a  movement ;  it  will  be  counted 
an  honor  to  everyone  who  took  part  in  the  settlement  of 
Greeley.  I  am  more  than  compensated  in  the  grand 
success  of  the  undertaking  itself,  and  I  have  nothing 
to  regret." 

Greeley  is  on  a  fine  motor  road  that  leads  from 
Cheyenne  to  Denver,  the  city  that  proudly  tells  of  the 
coming  there  of  the  pioneers  of  1858.  The  oldest  por 
tion  of  the  future  city  was  known  as  Auraria.  Across 
the  creek  was  St.  Charles,  a  settlement  already  deserted 
when  General  Larimer  came  that  way  and  laid  out  the 
old  town  as  Denver  City,  naming  it  for  Governor  Den 
ver  of  Kansas  Territory,  of  which  Colorado  was  then 
a  part. 

Denver  city  was  young  when,  in  April,  1859,  the  first 
issue  of  The  Rocky  Mountain  News  made  its  grandilo 
quent  bow  from  the  settlement — 

Where  a  few  months  ago  the  wild  beasts  and  wilder 
Indians  held  undisturbed  possession — where  now 
surges  the  advancing  wave  of  Anglo-Saxon  enterprise 
and  civilization,  where  soon,  wre  fondly  hope,  will  be 
erected  a  great  and  powerful  State,  another  empire  in 
the  sisterhood  of  empires. 


SEEING   THE  FAR   WEST 

The  first  mail  came  to  Denver  from  the  nearest  post 
office,  Fort  Laramie,  more  than  two  hundred  miles  dis 
tant,  a  few  weeks  after  the  appearance  of  the  new 
paper's  salutatory.  A  little  later  came  Horace  Greeley, 
who  found  the  best  hotel  so  uncomfortable  that  he  de 
cided  to  "jump"  one  of  the  numerous  empty  cabins, 
which  was  about  ten  feet  square.  Not  long  afterward 
the  owner  returned.  He  did  not  seem  a  bit  surprised 
to  find  a  guest,  but  with  the  open-hearted  hospitality 
that  has  characterized  Denver  from  that  day,  he  decided 
that  the  cabin  was  large  enough  for  two. 

A  year  later  "Glittering  Gold,"  a  yellow-backed 
pamphlet  printed  to  lure  the  adventurer,  spoke  of  Den 
ver  City  and  Auraria  as  points  on  the  line  to  the  mines. 
Not  long  afterward  Auraria  became  a  part  of  Denver, 
though  the  business  center  remained  on  the  Auraria 
side  of  the  creek  until  it  was  wiped  out  by  the  flood 
of  1864. 

Citizens  of  the  growing  town  soon  found  opportu 
nity  to  boast.  They  told  of  the  record  for  sunshine,  they 
spoke  of  the  wonderful  scenery,  and  they  declared  that 
the  place  was  destined  to  be  "  the  largest  city  between 
Chicago  and  San  Francisco."  They  took  as  a  matter 
of  course  the  praise  of  visitors  like  the  editor  of  the 
New  York  Herald  who,  in  1871,  said,  *  '  Denver  and  Paris 
are  the  two  cities  with  which  I  fell  in  love  at  first  sight. " 

After  a  brief  stay  in  Colorado  Springs  and  a  longer 
stay  in  Golden,  the  state  capital  moved  to  Denver  in 
1868.  Almost  from  that  time  Denver  has  been  noted  for 
the  persistent  manner  in  which  she  permits  politicians 
to  rule  her  and  rob  her.  Of  course  there  are  periodical 
attempts  to  "oust  the  gang,"  but  when,  after  years  of 
struggle,  victory  crowns  the  efforts  of  the  reformer, 

40 


ALLURING   CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

there  is  soon  a  relapse  into  a  condition  worse  than  the 
former  state. 

"Why  does  Denver  go  back?"  magazine  writers 
have  asked  so  often  that  the  references  to  Denver  in  that 
fascinating  book,  "Poole's  Index, "  are,  most  of  them, 
under  the  heading,  "  Politics. "  Edward  Hungerford, 
in  "The  Personality  of  American  Cities, "  has  sug 
gested  ingeniously  that  "the  isolation  and  the  altitude, 
constantly  tending  to  make  humans  nervous  and  un 
strung,"  is  responsible,  in  a  measure,  for  the  troubled 
state  of  local  politics.  This  condition  was  vastly  im 
proved  by  the  adoption  in  1916  of  a  modified  form  of 
city  government. 

But  there  has  been  time  for  something  more  than 
politics.  For  one  thing,  there  has  been  a  determination 
to  overcome  the  handicap  laid  on  the  city  when  the 
Union  PacificKailroad  passed  by  far  to  the  north.  Moun 
tains  to  the  west  seemed  to  forbid  direct  outlet  to  Salt 
Lake  City,  so  for  a  season  the  business  men  were  forced 
to  be  content  with  a  roundabout  road  by  way  of  Pueblo. 
Yet  there  was  a  man  of  faith  named  David  H.  Moffat 
who  declared  that  a  road  should,  could  and  would  be 
built,  directly  west  across  the  mountains  that  look  so 
inviting  to  the  tourist,  but  are  forbidding  and  all  but 
impossible  to  the  railway  engineer.  To  Moffat,  how 
ever,  there  was  no  such  word  as  "impossible";  when 
outside  capitalists  refused  to  be  inveigled,  he  interested 
local  capital  and  began  work.  Thirty  tunnels  were  built 
in  seventy-three  miles.  The  summit  was  crossed  at 
Eollins  Pass,  11,600  feet  high,  though  later  more  than 
two  thousand  feet  of  this  height  was  subtracted  by  a 
tunnel  through  the  barrier  mountain.  That  tunnel 
brings  Vasquez,  beyond  the  western  portal,  twenty-five 

41 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

miles  nearer  Denver  than  the  route  over  the  summit. 
The  road  to  the  summit  may  still  be  taken,  and  that  visi 
tor  is  fortunate  who  is  able  from  the  height  to  look 
down  on  the  wonderful  panorama  of  glaciers,  mountain 
summits,  and  canyon  walls. 

The  death  of  Moffat,  the  seer,  caused  a  temporary 
interruption  in  construction,  and  a  receivership,  but 
work  has  been  resumed,  and  the  miracle  line  has  passed 
through  the  forests  and  the  rich  coal  fields  of  Boutt 
County,  and  far  over  the  line  into  Moffat  County.  Some 
day  it  will  reach  Salt  Lake  City,  and  Denver  will  have 
her  direct  outlet  to  the  Pacific. 

"The  Mile  High  City,"  as  Denver  has  been  called, 
has  a  tremendously  impressive  location.  From  the 
streets  two  hundred  miles  of  mountains  are  on  display, 
from  Gray's  Peak  and  Long's  Peak  on  the  north  to 
Pike 's  Peak  and  mountains  still  farther  south.  In  1865 
Samuel  Bowles,  the  famous  newspaper  man  from  New 
England,  wrote  of  this  setting: 

No  town  that  I  know  of  in  all  the  world  has  such  a 
panorama  of  perpetual  beauty  spread  before  it  as  Den 
ver  has  in  the  best  and  broadest  belt  of  the  Bocky 
Mountains,  that  rises  up  from  the  valley  in  which  it 
is  built,  and  winds  away  to  the  right  and  the  left  as  far 
as  the  eye  can  see — fields  and  woods  and  rocks  and  snow, 
mounting  and  melting  away  to  the  sky  in  a  line  often 
indistinguishable,  and  sending  back  the  rays  of  the  sun 
in  colors  and  shapes  that  paint  and  pencil  never  repro 
duced,  that  poetry  never  described. 

That  full  advantage  may  be  taken  of  this  queenly  set 
ting  Denver  plans  to  persuade  the  Government  to  make 
a  National  Park  at  her  doors.  But,  that  the  appeal  may 
be  irresistible,  her  citizens  are  acquiring  all  patented 

42 


! 


ALLURING  CITIES  OF  THE  PIONEERS 

lands  within  the  bounds  of  the  proposed  park,  including 
the  lakes  on  Mt.  Evans. 

But  Denver  is  not  waiting  on  the  United  States  for 
her  playgrounds.  Already  ten  scattered  tracts  have 
been  brought  together  in  the  Denver  Mountain  Parks, 
containing  in  all  about  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of 
meadows,  streams,  canyons,  lakes  and  mountains,  the 
mean  elevation  being  from  seven  thousand  to  eight  thou 
sand  feet.  The  nearest  of  these  tracts  is  on  Lookout 
Mountain,  twelve  miles  distant,  approached  by  a  con 
crete  roadway.  The  tourist  who  takes  the  road  is  able 
to  proceed  to  the  other  tracts  in  the  park,  over  a  per 
fect  system  of  sixty-five  miles,  making  a  circle  trip  by 
way  of  Morrison  back  to  Denver. 

Lariat  Trail,  the  road  up  Mt.  Lookout,  is  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  roads  in  Colorado.  The  views  from 
various  points  of  vantage  are  memorable.  More  than 
once  the  streets  of  Denver,  far  below,  and  to  one  side, 
are  plainly  visible.  Again  the  downward  prospect  is  of 
Clear  Creek,  of  interest  not  merely  because  of  its 
beauty,  but  also  because  it  was  the  scene  of  the  first 
gold  discovery  in  the  state.  Once,  from  a  bold  cliff, 
Golden  appears  two  thousand  feet  below ;  this  spot  is  not 
far  from  the  grave  of  Colonel  Cody  (Buffalo  Bill),  who 
was  buried  far  above  the  plains  where  he  won  his  fame, 
as  the  most  fitting  place  that  could  have  been  selected. 

And  this  is  but  the  beginning  of  the  route  through 
the  Mountain  Parks  that  provides  inspiration  and  satis 
faction  for  hours  of  the  motorist's  time,  for  days  of 
the  time  the  even  more  fortunate  traveler  who  walks 
leisurely  over  the  trails. 

This  masterpiece  of  road  construction  in  the  great 
municipal  park  system  has  not  yet  been  completed, 

43 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

though  sections  have  been  built.  It  connects  with  the 
Mount  Evans  road  in  Bergen  Park,  thirty-three  miles 
from  Denver,  and  is  to  go  sixty-five  miles  to  the  summit 
of  Mt.  Evans,  several  hundred  feet  higher  than  Pike's 
Peak.  Thus  the  total  rise  will  be  fully  nine  thousand 
feet.  The  final  ten  miles  of  the  route  will  ' '  follow  the 
sky  line  of  mountains  that  rank  in  height  with  the  peaks 
of  the  continental  divide,"  and  will  overlook  Summit 
Lake,  13,000  feet  high;  Mt.  Bierstadt,  whose  almost 
unscalable  walls  are  a  constant  lure  to  the  mountain- 
climber;  Lake  Abyss,  two  thousand  feet  down  in  the 
chasm  between  Bierstadt  and  Elvans,  as  well  as  a  dozen 
more  lakes  fed  by  the  melting  snows  and  the  ice-fields 
that  long  made  the  conquest  of  these  mountains  so  dan 
gerous  and  so  attractive. 


CHAPTER  IV 
IN   NATURE'S   GARDENS 
THE  PARKS  OF  COLORADO 

IT  is  the  dream  of  Enos  A.  Mills  to  persuade  Con 
gress  to  dedicate  as  National  Parks  the  entire 
Forest  Eange  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  from  Wy 
oming  on  the  north  to  the  Arkansas  Valley  on  the  south. 
The  eastern  foothills  would  be  included  in  the  two- 
hundred-and-fifty-mile  stretch  of  playground  which 
would  combine  lofty  valleys,  peaks  that  raise  their  heads 
far  above  the  pines  into  the  region  of  eternal  snow, 
fearsome  canyons,  towering  cliffs,  lakes  of  wondrous 
beauty,  and  rivers  that  rush  and  tumble  in  their  swift 
descent  from  the  mountains  toward  the  plains. 

The  erection  of  such  a  park  would  be  only  the  bring 
ing  together  under  an  inclusive  name  of  regions  clearly 
set  apart  by  nature  for  the  delight  of  man.  From  the 
days  when  the  territory  was  young  these  regions  have 
been  known  as  North  Park,  Middle  Park,  South  Park 
and  San  Luis  Park.  Perhaps  thirteen  thousand  square 
miles  are  embraced  in  these  mountain  boundaries,  much 
of  the  territory  so  fertile  that  its  development  will 
astound  even  those  who  have  become  accustomed  to  the 
tales  of  marvelous  fertility  that  come  from  Colorado. 
The  high  valleys  of  these  parks  are  entirely  surrounded 
by  mountains,  except  San  Luis  Park,  which  looks  out 
on  the  plains  of  eastern  Colorado.  Each  one  is  distin 
guished  as  the  source  of  one  or  more  of  the  rivers  that 
glorify  the  state.  In  North  Park  the  North  Platte  be 
gins  its  course.  In  Middle  Park,  which  is  much  larger 

45 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

than  the  State  of  Delaware,  the  Grand  and  the  Gunnison 
start  on  their  impetuous  courses.  South  Park  is  nearly 
as  large  as  Middle  Park,  and  from  it  flow  the  Arkansas 
and  the  South  Platte.  A  curious  fact  concerning  the 
beginning  of  these  two  streams  is  that  both  flow  from 
Palmer  Lake,  though  in  opposite  directions.  From  the 
nearly  flat  surface  of  San  Luis  Park — which,  geologists 
say,  must  have  been  at  one  time  the  bed  of  an  inland  sea 
— flows  the  Eio  Grande  del  Norte. 

These  mountain  parks  are  accessible  not  only  by 
rail,  but  by  some  of  the  finest  automobile  roads  in  a  state 
famous  for  such  highways.  Perhaps  the  most  delight 
ful  of  these  lead  to  Eocky  Mountain  National  Park,  the 
only  portion  of  the  great  natural  park  region  so  far 
taken  over  by  the  government.  Eocky  Mountain  Park, 
which  lies  to  the  southeast  of  North  Park,  and  to  the 
northeast  of  Middle  Park,  borrows  from  both  features 
of  marvelous  beauty  and  adds  tremendous  advantages 
all  its  own. 

Those  who  would  seek  Eocky  Mountain  Park  from 
Denver  by  highway  have  choice  of  three  routes.  One 
of  these,  by  Longmont  and  Lyons,  leads  through  the 
St.  Vrain  canyon  and  crosses  the  mountains.  The 
Boulder  route  is  by  way  of  Ward,  and  crosses  the  main 
range  of  the  Eockies.  But  the  choicest  route  of  the 
three  is  by  way  of  Loveland,  and  through  nearly  twenty- 
five  miles  of  the  canyon  of  Thompson  Eiver.  Wherever 
possible  the  roadbed  through  the  canyon  was  placed 
on  the  north  side  of  the  stream,  that  it  might  have  the 
benefit  of  the  sun.  It  would  be  difficult  to  find  a  high 
way  that  provides  for  the  motorist  in  three  hours 
greater  delight  than  the  Thompson  Eiver  road. 

There  were  none  of  these  roads  in  the  days  of 


IN  NATURE'S   GARDENS 

early  visitors,  but  many  of  them  found  their  way 
to  the  region  of  delight  that  called  forth  the  praise 
of  such  travelers  as  Helen  Hunt  Jackson,  Isabella  Bird 
Bishop,  Horace  Greeley  and  Samuel  Bowles.  I  Joel 
Estes,  a  pioneer  who  made  his  home  within  the  limits 
of  the  park,  gave  his  name  to  its  one  hundred  thousand 
acres  of  meadow  and  mountain,  lake  and  river,  nestling 
in  an  amphitheatre  of  the  Eockies. 

Approach  this  gem  of  Colorado  mountains  as  one 
will,  it  offers  an  enrapturing  vision.  From  the  ridge  on 
the  north  the  view  is  down  fifteen  hundred  feet  into  the 
valley  of  the  Thompson  Eiver.  Prom  the  plains  to  the 
southeast  the  dominating  feature  of  the  view  is  Sheep 
Mountain.  From  the  adjoining  Wind  Eiver  Valley 
the  eye  takes  in  the  majestic  slope  of  seven  thousand 
feet  to  the  summit.  And  from  the  summit  of  Table 
Mountain,  some  miles  northwest  of  the  park,  there  is  a 
prospect  that  is  more  splendid  than  any  of  the  others. 

The  park  is  dominated  by  Long's  Peak,  named  for 
Major  S.  H.  Long,  the  explorer,  more  than  one  hundred 
feet  higher  than  Pike's  Peak,  from  whose  granite  top 
can  be  seen  the  smoke  of  Denver,  fifty  miles  away,  as 
well  as  summits  of  the  Pike 's  Peak  region.  The  heights 
east  of  Cheyenne  in  Wyoming,  and  mountains  far  to  the 
west  are  plainly  visible.  It  was  the  view  toward  this 
royal  height  that  led  Isabella  Bird  Bishop  to  declare, 
1 '  Never,  nowhere,  have  I  seen  anything  to  equal  the 
view  into  Estes  Park." 

But  Estes  Park  did  not  include  enough  to  suit  Enos 
A.  Mills.  For  years  he  urged  the  creation  of  a  larger 
park  which,  while  appropriating  the  best  of  Estes, 
should  include  also  the  marvelous  region  immediately 
to  the  west.  He  succeeded  in  January,  1915,  when  the 

47 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Rocky  Mountain  National  Park  was  created,  with  an 
area  of  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  square  miles. 
Thirty  years  of  residence  at  the  foot  of  Long's  Peak 
prepared  Mills  to  be  one  of  those  whom  Secretary  of 
the  Interior,  Franklin  Lane,  once  called  the  pioneers 
whose  love  made  of  the  region  a  temple  and  a  shrine. 

Those  who  seek  variety  should  turn  their  feet  toward 
what  this  persistent  love  of  Mills  has  made  a  natural 
shrine.  In  addition  to  other  things  which  they  will  ex 
pect  to  find,  they  will  discover  glaciers  and  terminal 
moraines  and  glacial  lakes.  They  will  find  mysterious 
forests  and  wonderfully  beautiful  flowers.  Everywhere 
they  turn  there  will  be  seen  evidences  of  the  activity 
of  the  busy  beaver,  whose  dams  are  across  the  water  of 
many  streams,  and  if  they  delight  in  hunting  they  will 
behold  on  every  hand  evidences  of  mountain  game  that 
will  add  attraction  to  the  wild. 

It  is  a  long  way  from  National  Mountain  Park  to 
Mesa  Verde  Park,  the  second  of  the  Colorado  reserva 
tions  so  far  made  by  the  United  States  Government ;  but 
the  journey,  whether  made  by  rail  or  by  the  Park  to 
Park  Highway,  which  is  to  connect  all  the  National 
Parks  of  the  West,  is  crowded  so  full  of  varied  and 
satisfying  visions  that  the  distance  is  forgotten.  The 
highway  leads  through  the  heart  of  San  Juan  Moun 
tains  to  the  fertile  valleys  of  Montezuma  County,  whose 
lands  were  irrigated  by  the  Indians,  long  before  the 
first  explorers  turned  their  steps  toward  Colorado. 

Mancos  is  the  gateway  to  Mesa  Verde,  the  green 
tableland  whose  waters  were  discovered  in  December, 
1888,  by  Richard  and  Alfred  Wetherell,  cattlemen  from 
Mancos,  who  pushed  into  the  Mesa  by  way  of  one  of  the 
green  canyons  that  cut  the  surface  in  every  direction. 

48 


IN  NATURE'S  GARDENS 

These  men  were  familiar  with  cliff  dwellings  of  a  sort, 
having  seen  them  in  the  Mancos  Canyon,  discovered  in 
1874.  But  they  were  not  prepared  for  the  startling 
vision  of  the  homes  of  the  Indians  of  many  centuries 
ago  perched  high  up  on  the  cliffs  of  the  canyon  in  which 
they  found  themselves.  Eagerly  they  made  further 
investigations,  and,  when  they  carried  word  of  their 
discovery  back  to  Mancos,  there  was  great  curiosity 
as  to  the  ruins. 

Almost  at  once  two  hundred  of  the  women  of  Colo 
rado  began  the  fight  that  was  to  continue  for  nearly 
twenty-five  years  for  the  preservation  of  the  Mesa. 
They  organized  the  Colorado  Cliff  Dwellers'  Associa 
tion,  and  did  not  rest  until,  in  1906,  Congress  created  the 
Mesa  Verde  National  Park.  And  when  they  discovered 
that  the  sixty-five  miles  of  the  reservation  did  not 
include  the  precious  relics  of  the  past,  they  persevered 
until  the  act  creating  the  park  was  amended  so  as  to 
take  in  "all  prehistoric  ruins  that  are  situated  within 
five  miles  of  the  boundaries."  Thus  the  park  was 
enlarged  to  274  square  miles. 

At  first  the  approach  to  the  park  was  over  a  rocky 
road  difficult  even  for  the  rider  of  the  most  sure-footed 
steed,  but  in  recent  years  a  fine  government  highway 
has  been  constructed  from  Mancos,  twenty-eight  miles 
to  the  Mesa.  For  three  hours  this  road  leads  the  trav 
eler  by  motor  up  from  the  plain  to  the  Mancos  Canyon, 
then  for  many  miles  along  the  edge  of  the  tableland  far 
above  the  green  valley.  The  grade  is  never  greater 
than  eight  per  cent.,  and  the  road  is  wide  except  between 
two  points  where  there  are  telephone  boxes,  for  the  com 
pulsory  use  of  tourists,  in  accordance  with  the  follow 
ing  peremptory  order: 

4  40 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Persons  approaching  Point  Lookout  Grade  in  either 
direction  must  stop  at  telephone  box  and  call  office 
at  Mancos,  to  be  sure  the  grade  is  clear  of  vehicles,  as 
they  cannot  pass  on  the  grade  without  danger. 

From  Point  Lookout,  8248  feet  high,  Ute  Mountain 
may  be  seen  with  its  added  height  of  nearly  two  thou 
sand  feet,  as  well  as  the  fertile  Montezuma  valley,  where 
the  Pueblo  Indians  had  irrigating  ditches  that  made 
the  region  fruitful.  Traces  of  the  old  irrigation  works 
have  been  found  in  out-of-the-way  places. 

The  plateau  slopes  toward  the  south,  and  is  cut  by 
numerous  small  canyons  which  lead  tributary  streams 
to  the  Mancos  River.  Hidden  high  up  on  the  rocky  walls 
of  the  canyon  are  the  ruined  community  houses  of  the 
Indians,  their  watch  towers,  and  their  granaries.  Cliff 
Palace,  the  village  discovered  by  the  cattlemen,  in  1888, 
is  the  largest  of  the  ruins.  Here  twenty-three  distinct 
clans  had  their  abode.  Spruce  Tree  House,  named  be 
cause  of  a  large  spruce  tree  growing  in  front  of  it  at  the 
time  of  its  discovery,  was  the  home  of  perhaps  three 
hundred  people. 

Almost  directly  south  of  Spruce  Tree  House,  and 
near  the  southern  limit  of  the  park,  the  remarkable  dis 
covery  of  the  Sun  Temple  was  made  in  1915.  When 
Dr.  J.  W.  Fewkes  reported  to  the  Indian  Department 
the  finding  and  excavating  of  the  temple,  he  said  he 
was  convinced  that  it  was  built  about  1300  A.D.  His 
estimate  was  based  on  study  of  a  red  cedar  tree  which 
was  growing  when  he  began  work  near  the  summit  of 
the  highest  wall  in  the  temple  annex.  The  tree  was 
killed  in  the  process  of  excavating,  for  its  roots  pene 
trated  the  adjacent  rooms.  When  it  was  cut  down, 
the  superintendent  of  the  near-by  Montezuma  National 

50 


lib 

\  \W^-u, 

mm 


IN  BIG  THOMPSON  CANYON,   ON  THE   WAY  TO   ROCKY  MOUNTAIN 
NATIONAL   PARK 


SPRUCE    TREE    HOUSE,    MESA    VERDE    NATIONAL    PARK.       200    FEET    LONG, 
ONCE    CONTAINED    114    ROOMS 


L    . 


"*.to 


RAINBOW    BRIDGE,    SAN    JOSE    COUNTY,    UTAH 
(As  a  guide  to  the  size  of  the  bridge,  note  horse  in  left  foreground) 


IN   NATURE'S   GARDENS 

Forest  counted  three  hundred  and  sixty  annual  rings. 
But  the  tree  grew  on  a  mound  of  ruined  wall,  so  it 
was  thought  wise  to  add  at  least  two  hundred  and  fifty 
years  for  the  period  of  the  construction  of  the  temple, 
its  use,  and  its  falling  into  ruins. 

In  the  Montezuma  Forest,  whose  headquarters  are 
at  Mancos,  nearly  seven  hundred  thousand  acres  are  set 
aside  for  the  preservation  of  just  such  trees.  And  this 
great  forest  has  in  it  but  one-twentieth  of  the  national 
forest  lands  of  Colorado,  whose  caretakers  would  agree 
emphatically  with  words  written  by  Horace  Greeley, 
after  his  study  of  Colorado  mountains  and  forests : 

I  have  no  blind  horror  of  cutting  trees.  Any  fairly 
grown  forest  can  always  spare  trees,  and  be  benefited 
by  their  removal.  But  I  protest  most  earnestly  against 
the  reckless  waste  involved  in  cutting  off  and  burning 
over  our  forests.  In  regions  which  are  all  woods, 
ground  must  of  course  be  cleared  for  cultivation;  but 
many  a  farmer  goes  on  slashing  and  burning  long  after 
he  should  begin  to  be  saving  of  his  timber.  .  .  . 
Protracted,  desolating  drouth,  scorching  winds,  and  the 
failure  of  delicate  fruits,  like  the  peach  and  fine  pears, 
are  part  of  the  penalty  we  pay  for  depriving  our  fields 
and  gardens  of  the  genial,  hospitable  protection 
of  forests. 

The  visitor  to  Mesa  Verde,  after  pausing  to  learn 
some  of  the  lore  of  the  foresters  of  Montezuma,  will 
be  ready  for  a  second  trip  offered  by  Mancos,  to  a  region 
wild  and  desolate,  but  so  beautiful  in  its  desolation  that 
it  is  attracting  many  visitors,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it 
is  not  yet  accessible  by  rail,  and  that  the  roads  approach 
ing  it  leave  much  to  be  desired.  This  is  the  region  of 
the  Natural  Bridges  in  San  Juan  County,  over  the  line 

51 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

in  Utah,  wonders  known  only  since  1903,  when  a  mining 
engineer  and  a  cattleman  discovered  the  first  of  the 
three  gigantic  bridges  whose  description  has  staggered 
even  those  most  accustomed  to  tremendous  figures. 

Montezuma  Highway  from  Mancos  is  identical  with 
the  road  to  Mesa  Verde  for  some  miles.  Not  far  from 
Point  Lookout  it  continues  to  the  west  to  Cortez  and 
Bluff,  then  to  the  Natural  Bridges.  The  distance 
to  these  huge  marvels  is  about  one  hundred  and 
thirty  miles. 

In  March,  1903,  a  cattleman  told  Horace  J.  Long 
that  he  had  caught  a  distant  glimpse  of  a  wonderful 
bridge  in  a  canyon  not  two  days'  journey  from  the 
Colorado  Ewer.  Mr.  Long  persuaded  him  to  lead  the 
way  to  the  place,  and  after  a  journey  whose  difficulty 
can  be  imagined  only  by  those  who  have  pushed  through 
a  parched  country,  in  spite  of  quicksands  and  interfer 
ing  willow  and  scrub  oak  and  twisted  cottonwoods,  they 
came  within  sight  of  the  first  of  the  monolith  curiosities 
of  which  they  were  in  search. 

When  word  of  the  discovery  was  taken  to  the  outside 
world,  the  Commercial  Club  of  Salt  Lake  City  sent  an 
expedition  of  seven  men  into  the  almost  inaccessible 
region  to  secure  full  information  of  the  newest  attrac 
tion  in  that  most  interesting  state.  At  last  the  ex 
plorers  came  to  White  Canyon  and  its  tributary,  Arm 
strong  Canyon,  where  they  stood  in  amazement  before 
the  colossal  bridges  of  nature's  own  building,  so  much 
larger  than  the  Natural  Bridge  of  Virginia  that  the 
favorite  haunt  of  the  pioneers  of  the  Old  Dominion 
seems  like  a  toy  in  comparison. 

Edwin  Bridge,  the  smallest  of  the  three  discovered, 
lies  across  Armstrong  Canyon.  Its  span  is  194  feet, 

52 


IN   NATURE'S   GARDENS 

and  it  is  108  feet  above  the  bed  of  the  canyon.  At  the 
top  it  is  35  feet  wide,  while  the  arch  at  the  centre  is 
ten  feet  thick. 

"I  ain  the  first  white  man  who  has  ever  ridden  over 
this  bridge/'  was  the  proud  boast  of  Mr.  Long,  who 
startled  the  world  by  telling  of  the  wonders  of 
the  canyon. 

Three  miles  down  Armstrong  Canyon  from  Edwin 
Bridge  is  White  Canyon,  spanned  by  Caroline  Bridge, 
which  Long's  cattleman  companion  named  for  his  wife. 
The  distance  at  the  ground  between  buttresses  of  this 
mighty  bridge  is  208%  feet,  or  more  than  twice  as  wide 
as  an  unusually  broad  city  street.  It  is  197  feet  from 
the  water  that  flows  beneath  its  majestic  arch  to  the 
center  of  the  stone  above.  From  here  it  is  125  feet  more 
to  the  floor  of  the  bridge.  One  observer  has  said  of  this 
floor,  which  is  127  feet  wide,  "an  army  could  march 
over  in  columns  of  companies,  and  still  leave  room  at 
the  side  for  a  continuous  stream  of  artillery  and  bag 
gage  wagons. " 

The  third  bridge  is  found  several  miles  up  White 
Canyon  from  the  Caroline  Bridge.  Its  proportions 
are  even  more  tremendous.  It  has  been  calculated  that 
if  the  Capitol  at  Washington  were  placed  beneath  the 
arch,  there  would  be  fifty-one  feet  between  the  top  of 
the  dome  and  the  stone,  and  that  if  the  tallest  of 
California's  Calaveras  trees  could  be  planted  in  the  bed 
of  the  stream,  thirty-two  feet  would  separate  the  loftiest 
branch  and  the  lower  side  of  the  arch.  Mr.  Long 
claimed  the  privilege  of  naming  the  bridge  Augusta,  in 
honor  of  his  wife. 

Of  this  bridge  the  statement  has  been  made:  "It  is 
set  in  the  midst  of  big  things.  The  trees  beneath  are 

53 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

giants  of  their  kind,  the  cliffs  roundabout  are  massive 
and  towering,  but  the  sweeping  lines  of  the  colossal 
bridge  dominate  everything,  making  the  horsemen  look 
like  pigmies,  and  the  great  pines  that  cling  to  the  abut 
ments  appear  like  shrubbery.  It  is  of  a  light  red  hue, 
somewhat  weather-stained  in  places,  but  glowing  in 
color  on  the  under  side  of  the  arch,  where  it  is  protected 
and  where  the  cleavages  are  fresh.  A  sense  of  enor 
mous  strength  pervades  it,  a  sense  that  it  has  endured 
for  ages,  and  will  endure  for  ages  yet  to  come. ' ' 

In  canyons  near  the  bridges  are  cliff-dwellings  of  the 
Pueblo  Indians  that  would  seem  wonderful  to  anyone 
who  has  not  first  examined  the  Mesa  Verde  ruins,  but 
the  memory  of  those  pueblos  of  the  tributary  canyon  of 
the  Mancos  and  the  knowledge  that  not  far  away  is  the 
giant  of  all  the  bridges  will  hurry  the  sightseer  on. 
The  journey  to  a  point  sixteen  miles  below  the  junction 
of  the  San  Juan  and  the  Colorado  is  difficult,  but  it  is 
well  worth  taking. 

A  few  venturesome  explorers  had  passed  along  the 
Colorado  Eiver  at  this  point,  but  they  were  ignorant 
of  the  existence  of  a  bridge  four  miles  up  on  a  canyon 
which  entered  the  stream  from  the  east.  The  discov 
ery  was  made  in  1908  by  W.  B.  Douglass  of  the  United 
States  Land  Office,  who  had  been  instructed  to  find  a 
bridge  of  which  whispers  had  come  from  Indian  sources. 
Piute  guides  showed  the  way.  When  the  bridge  was 
reached  one  of  them  refused  to  pass  under  the  arch. 
He  explained  the  reason.  The  bridge  was  called  Nonne- 
zosche,  or  the  rainbow.  It  was  supposed  to  represent 
the  rainbow,  or  path  of  the  sun,  and  no  one  who 
passed  beneath  was  allowed  to  return  unless  he  re 
peated  a  form  of  prayer.  "  Apparently  he  had  for- 

54 


IN   NATURE'S   GARDENS 

gotten  the  prayer  and  feared  vengeance  if  he  broke 
the  prohibition. " 

The  Eainbow  Bridge  is  308  feet  high,  278  feet  be 
tween  abutments,  and  20  feet  thick  in  the  narrowest 
part,  but  42  feet  thick  at  the  center  of  the  arch.  The 
canyon  spanned  by  it  extends  from  Navaho  Mountain 
northward  to  the  Colorado.  It  can  be  seen  from  the  top 
of  the  mountain,  but  at  that  distance  it  appears  to  be 
a  tiny  arch  indeed.  Thirty-five  miles  over  difficult 
countiy  separate  the  lofty  observer  from  this  greatest 
marvel  of  all  the  region,  and  two  days  are  required 
to  make  the  journey. 

Eainbow  Bridge  is  in  the  Indian  Eeservation,  and 
it  has  been  made  a  National  Monument,  so  that  it  is  free 
of  access  to  all.  The  three  bridges  near  Mancos  also 
constitute  a  National  Monument. 

Surely  it  will  not  be  long  till  the  canyons  of  the 
Natural  Bridges  are  recognized  resorts  for  tourists. 
When  a  railroad  spur  is  built  to  them  thousands  will 
turn  aside  every  season  to  inspect  the  great  arches  and 
speculate  on  the  strange  people  who  dwelt  in  the  cliffs 
so  long  ago. 


CHAPTER  V 

IN  GARDENS  OF  MAN'S  DEVISING 
THE  IRRIGATED  LANDS  OF  COLORADO 

ONCE  it  was  thought  in  Colorado  that  gold  and 
silver  were  the  only  products  of  the  country 
worth  considering.  Some  pioneers  hinted 
that  the  soil  was  capable  of  producing  enormous  crops, 
but  this  enthusiasm  did  not  receive  much  encourage 
ment.  However,  folks  began  to  open  their  eyes  in  1863 
because  of  John  BusselPs  experience  with  his  potato 
crop  not  far  from  Denver.  Not  long  after  the  tubers 
were  in  the  ground  the  Indians  drove  him  away.  After 
several  months  he  returned  to  find  his  crop  doing  well. 
Then  came  a  dry  spell,  and  the  grower  was  so  discour 
aged  that  when  a  man  rode  by  on  a  pony  the  offer  was 
made  to  trade  the  potatoes  for  the  pony.  "But  how 
could  I  get  away  from  this  country  without  a  pony?" 
the  horseman  said,  as  he  rode  on.  Then  the  showers 
came,  and  the  potatoes  flourished.  The  product  sold  for 
$22  a  hundred  pounds  in  the  farmer's  furrow,  or  $26  a 
hundred  pounds  at  Denver.  Total  receipts  for  the  crop 
he  had  proposed  to  trade  for  a  pony  were  $11,600. 

Such  experiences  began  to  open  the  eyes  of  the 
pioneer  to  the  fact  that  it  was  not  necessary  to  be  con 
tent  with  conditions  like  those  described  by  Washington 
Irving  in  "Astoria."  The  country  to  the  east  of  the 
Continental  Divide  he  spoke  of  as  the  land  where  no  man 
could  permanently  abide,  for  in  certain  seasons  of  the 
year  there  was  no  food  either  for  the  hunter  or  his  steed. 
The  herbage  was  parched  and  withered;  the  streams 

56 


IN   GUNN1SON   CANYON,    COLORADO 


IN   GARDENS  OF  MAN'S  DEVISING 

dried  up;  the  buffalo,  the  elk,  and  the  deer  wandered 
to  distant  parts,  leaving  behind  them  a  vast  unin 
habited  solitude. 

To  correct  such  untoward  conditions  two  things 
were  needed — an  unfailing  supply  of  water  that  would 
make  the  toiler  on  the  land  independent  of  the  sparse 
and  irregular  rain,  and  a  method  of  conquering  the 
insidious  poisoning  of  the  soil  by  alkali. 

The  rich  country  about  Fort  Collins  furnishes  illus 
trations  of  the  effective  methods  employed  to  combat 
these  difficulties.  First  came  the  beneficent  irrigation 
that  has  transformed  so  many  districts  from  waste 
lands  to  productive  gardens.  But  in  the  train  of  irriga 
tion  came  alkali  poisoning  to  lands  that  were  thought 
to  be  immune.  A  farmer  might  congratulate  himself 
that  he  had  no  alkali  on  his  place.  Trees  flourished 
everywhere,  grain  grew  luxuriantly,  and  the  entire 
ranch  was  a  scene  of  beauty.  Then,  all  at  once,  a  change 
came.  Perhaps  there  was  a  spot  in  a  cornfield  that 
refused  to  bear,  or  a  few  trees  in  the  center  of  a  flourish 
ing  orchard  would  die. 

The  explanation  was  simple  but  disconcerting.  Far 
down  beneath  the  surface  was  a  white  chemical,  a  solu 
tion  of  calcium  sulphate,  that  was  harmless  so  long  as 
it  could  be  kept  beneath  the  surface.  But  as  water 
evaporated  from  the  surface,  water  farther  down  was 
drawn  upward.  With  it  came  the  alkali  solution.  After 
the  water  reached  the  surface,  it  evaporated,  and  left 
a  deadly  alkaline  crust  that  seemed  for  a  time  to  sound 
the  death-knell  of  the  hopes  of  orchards  and  gardens. 

There  were  those  who  said  that  the  lands  could  not 
be  redeemed.  But  the  government  engineers  believed 
they  could  conquer  the  alkali.  At  least  they  proposed 

57 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

to  try.  They  persuaded  a  number  of  ranchmen  near 
Fort  Collins  to  let  them  make  the  attempt,  and  to  the 
surprise  of  everyone  but  the  engineers  the  attempt  was 
successful.  The  method  used  seemed  simple.  By  ditch 
ing  and  tiling,  by  repeated  harrowing  and  flooding,  the 
alkali  was  washed  from  the  surface  and  from  the  soil 
beneath  the  surface.  So  well  was  this  done  that  men 
became  eager  to  buy  thousands  of  acres  of  land  that 
once  could  have  been  had  for  a  song.  The  cost  of 
reclaiming  an  acre  was  only  from  ten  to  forty  dollars, 
an  expenditure  that  seemed  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
wonderful  results  secured  in  the  threatened  region. 

The  most  spectacular  results  of  man's  efforts  to 
harness  the  forces  of  nature  for  the  changing  of  a  desert 
to  a  garden  appear  in  Western  Colorado,  not  far  from 
the  Utah  line.  There,  in  Grand  Valley,  and  in  the 
Uncompahgre  Valley,  associations  of  fruit  growers  and 
farmers,  assisted  later  by  the  state,  succeeded  in  the 
placing  of  fruitful  orchards  and  bountiful  crops  on 
thousands  of  acres  that  seemed  to  be  at  one  time,  a  hope 
less  sagebrush  desert.  But  not  until  the  Reclamation 
Act  of  1902  was  passed,  when  the  United  States  Gov 
ernment  began  its  beneficent  work  for  valleys  crying 
aloud  for  water,  did  the  desert  really  begin  to  blossom 
as  the  rose. 

Grand  Valley  first  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
homemakers.  In  1881  settlers  rushed  in  when  the  Ute 
Indians  were  removed  to  Utah.  By  1886  45,000  acres 
had  been  irrigated,  and  the  work  halted  because  of  the 
great  expense  of  the  gravity  canal  that  would  be  re 
quired  to  irrigate  from  sixty  to  ninety  thousand  acres 
more  just  as  promising. 

When  the  engineers  of  the  Reclamation  Service  be- 

58 


IN  GARDENS  OF  MAN'S  DEVISING 

gan  work  in  1913  they  had  conceived  a  daring  plan  to 
divert  the  water  of  the  Grand  Eiver  into  a  canal  system 
on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  by  a  dam  about  eight  miles 
from  Palisade.  By  this  means  lands  west  of  Grand 
Junction  would  be  cared  for.  It  was  hoped  that,  by  a 
tunnel  through  the  mountain,  water  could  be  carried 
over  to  the  sagebrush  lands  of  Eastern  Utah,  but  when 
it  was  learned  that  the  valleys  there  were  two  or  three 
hundred  feet  higher  up,  this  part  of  the  project 
was  abandoned. 

Grand  Valley,  where  the  dam  is  located,  is  thirty 
miles  long.  For  more  than  one  hundred  miles  the 
river  rushes  between  high  canyon  walls,  from  the  time 
it  enters  Gore  Canyon  near  Kremmlin^  until  it  reaches 
Palisade.  Then,  after  the  open  interval  of  Grand  Val 
ley,  comes  another  canyon  which  hides  the  waters  until 
they  reach  Green  Eiver,  Utah. 

It  has  been  pointed  out  that  the  engineers  had  to 
solve  the  difficult  problem  of  raising  the  level  of  the 
river  at  low  stages  sufficiently  to  send  1425  cubic  feet 
of  water  per  second  into  the  main  canal,  and  yet  at  high 
water  to  pass  a  flow  of  50,000  cubic  feet  per  second 
without  raising  the  water  level  to  a  point  where  it 
would  endanger  the  roadbed  of  the  Denver  and  Eio 
Grande  Eailway.  How  completely  the  problem  was 
solved  may  be  understood  by  those  who  visit  the  dam  at 
Palisade,  then  survey  the  astonishing  orchards  of  cher 
ries  and  apples  and  peaches  and  pears,  the  luxuriant 
vineyards,  the  fields  of  strawberries  and  raspberries, 
and  the  lands  devoted  to  crops  more  prosaic  but  just 
as  necessary. 

Southeast  of  Grand  Valley  is  the  valley  whose  land 
owners  did  the  best  they  could  with  the  uncertain  flow 

59 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

of  the  Uncompahgre  River,  at  the  same  time  casting 
longing  eyes  at  the  nearly  parallel  Gunnison  Eiver, 
whose  unfailing  water  supply  would  mean  the  complete 
metamorphosis  of  the  valley,  if  only  it  could  be  brought 
to  them.  And  there  was  no  way  of  finding  whether  this 
could  be  done  unless  some  one  should  first  explore  the 
terrible  depths  of  that  thirty-mile  stretch  of  canyon. 

Who  would  do  this  !  No  wonder  men  hesitated.  But 
there  were  five  heroes  who,  thinking  of  the  great  good 
that  might  be  accomplished  through  their  hardihood, 
resolved  to  make  the  attempt. 

These  men,  W.  W.  Torrence,  government  engineer, 
and  four  assistants,  undertook  what  was  as  dangerous 
as  anything  ever  done  by  a  government  employee.  They 
would  have  been  willing  to  be  let  down  by  a  rope  into 
the  canyon  at  the  point  where  it  was  proposed  to  have 
the  entrance  to  the  tunnel,  but  everybody  knew  that 
no  rope  would  stand  the  strain  of  passing  over  the 
jagged  edges  of  rock  encountered  during  the  descent 
of  more  than  a  half  mile.  There  was  only  one  way — 
to  enter  the  canyon  thirty  miles  above  and  descend  to 
the  spot  in  question. 

The  brave  men  started.  At  intervals  along  the  top 
of  the  canyon  walls  watchers  were  stationed  whose  duty 
it  was  to  peer  down  on  the  explorers  and  send  word  to 
their  homes  of  their  safety — or  their  death.  After 
climbing  to  the  river,  the  explorers  pushed  into  the 
water  stout  canvas  boats  stretched  on  oak  supports. 
Then  began  days  and  nights  of  terror. 

Almost  in  darkness,  with  spray  dashing  all  about 
them  so  that  they  were  wet  continually,  compelled  to 
yell  at  one  another  because  of  the  great  noise  made 
by  the  cataracts,  the  heroes  pushed  on  their  way. 

60 


IN   GARDENS  OF   MAN'S  DEVISING 

Waterfalls,  rapids,  rocks,  whirlpools,  succeeded  each 
other  with  bewildering  rapidity.  Sometimes  in  the 
boats,  again  in  the  water,  still  again  climbing  over  the 
rocks,  while  ropes  held  them  fast  together  and  to  their 
precious  boats,  they  advanced  slowly  and  painfully. 
The  first  day  less  than  a  mile  was  covered. 

The  terrors  and  the  hardships  of  the  next  few  days 
are  indescribable.  By  day  they  fought  boulders  and 
rapids,  eddies  and  whirlpools.  By  night  they  longed 
for  the  sleep  which  they  could  not  secure;  they  were 
too  weary  to  rest. 

The  watchers  on  the  edge  of  the  canyon  lost  sight  of 
them.  For  five  days  they  saw  not  a  sign  of  life.  Giving 
up  the  heroes  for  dead,  friends  prepared  to  catch  their 
bodies  in  wire  nets  put  into  the  water  at  the  mouth  of 
the  canyon.  Just  then  they  caught  a  glimpse  of 
them  alive. 

For  three  weeks  the  travelers  toiled  on.  Then  they 
were  utterly  exhausted.  Their  food  was  nearly  gone. 
But  they  did  not  give  up  until  the  day  when  they  were 
able  to  travel  only  one  hundred  yards,  when  the  walls, 
perpendicular,  glassy,  were  twenty-five  hundred  feet 
high,  and  only  twenty-eight  feet  apart.  They  had  come 
to  what  they  called  "The  Falls  of  Sorrows."  They 
could  not  go  on.  How  could  they  escape  ?  They  bowed 
their  heads  and  asked  God  to  help  them. 

God  helped  them.  He  led  them  to  a  fissure  in  the 
canyon  wall,  up  which  they  decided  to  climb.  At  times 
the  chosen  way  was  almost  perpendicular,  but  they  kept 
on.  Tied  together,  with  the  spike-shod  tripod  legs  of 
their  surveying  transits  for  staffs,  they  painfully  picked 
their  way,  sticking  to  the  precipice  edge  like  flies. 

Night  found  them  still  five  hundred  feet  from  the 

61 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

top.  "Their  lips  were  purple  and  swollen  to  triple 
size  for  want  of  water,"  their  story  has  been  told. 
* '  Their  hands  were  cut,  the  palms  were  raw  from  con 
tact  with  jagged  rocks  and  from  the  chafing  of  the  rope. 
Eyes  were  swollen  and  bloodshot  and  faces  were  covered 
with  a  quarter-inch-thick  mask,  where  a  layer  of 
rock  dust  had  settled  and  had  been  baked  in 
with  the  perspiration." 

On  they  went  in  the  dark.  For  five  tedious  hours 
they  persisted.  At  last,  bruised  and  almost  lifeless,  they 
were  among  their  friends. 

They  were  told  that  this  experience  should  satisfy 
them.  But  as  time  passed,  the  leader  of  the  first  expe 
dition,  seeing  still  the  vision  of  a  desert  valley  made  to 
blossom  as  the  rose,  took  with  him  A.  L.  Fellows,  an 
other  engineer,  and  entered  the  canyon.  As  a  substitute 
for  the  useless  boats,  a  rubber  air-mattress,  four  by  six 
feet,  was  taken  along.  On  this  all  their  equipment  was 
placed.  The  men  waded  or  swam  beside  the  mattress. 
Thus  they  covered  fourteen  miles  in  two  weeks,  after 
untold  hardships  reaching  the  Falls  of  Sorrows. 

Days  more  of  privation  and  marvelous  escape.  Then 
the  men  paused  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice  over  which 
the  river  disappeared.  What  was  beyond?  Did  the 
river  go  underground?  They  could  not  tell.  The  only 
thing  to  do  was  to  go  over  the  falls.  Fellows  went  first, 
and  disappeared.  Torrence  followed  in  the  raft.  He 
found  Fellows  lying  exhausted  on  a  shelf  of  rock  beyond 
the  falls. 

Hours  went  by  before  the  men  were  able  to  move. 
Then,  hungry  after  sixteen  hours '  abstinence  from  food, 
they  ate  their  last  spoonful  of  baked  beans  and,  scarcely 
able  to  stand,  began  taking  notes  and  snapping  photo- 

62 


IN   GARDENS  OF  MAN'S  DEVISING 

graphs  of  the  spot.  Just  then  a  mountain  sheep  passed 
them.  They  caught  it,  and  ate  it  as  they  killed  it.  In 
the  strength  of  that  food  the  companions  went  on  into 
dangers  even  greater  than  those  they  had  passed.  Once 
they  had  to  throw  themselves  into  the  river  as  it  foamed 
through  a  dark  tunnel  through  a  mass  of  broken  rock. 
Strange  to  say,  they  came  out  safely,  and  they  were 
soon  at  the  end  of  their  thirty-mile  trip. 

Then  came  the  building  of  a  road  into  the  canyon, 
that  machinery  might  be  taken  there.  Finally  work 
began  at  the  same  time  from  points  on  opposite  sides 
of  the  mountain  to  be  pierced. 

The  driving  of  the  tunnel  six  miles  long  would  have 
been  a  herculean  task  even  under  the  most  favorable 
circumstances.  But  conditions  were  far  from  favorable. 
There  were  cave-ins  and  springs  of  hot  and  cold  water 
broke  in  on  the  workers.  Once  when  an  enormous 
flow  of  water  was  tapped,  carbon-dioxide  in  great  quan 
tities  sent  the  men  to  the  surface  in  a  panic.  Even  after 
three  weeks  it  was  still  impossible  to  work,  and  it  was 
necessary  to  construct  a  ventilating  shaft  about  seven 
hundred  feet  deep,  through  the  rock,  for  air. 

The  first  water  for  irrigation  was  delivered  through 
the  tunnel  in  1910.  Next  came  the  completion  of  the 
dam  in  the  canyon  of  the  Gunnison  for  the  diversion  of 
the  stream  into  the  mountain  passageway,  and  the 
eleven-mile  canal  from  the  western  portal  of  the  tunnel 
to  the  valley  where  more  than  one  hundred  thousand 
acres  had  waited  long  for  the  unfailing  water  supply. 
The  tunnel  and  dam  can  be  reached  without  difficulty 
from  Morton,  one  of  the  chief  towns  of  the  smil 
ing  valley. 

It  is  difficult  for  those  who  see  the  lands  as  they 

63 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

are  to-day  to  realize  what  a  change  has  been  wrought 
here  by  irrigation.  However,  it  will  be  necessary  to 
look  on  other  valleys  where  the  beneficent  work  of  the 
reclamation  engineer  has  not  yet  been  done  to  appre 
ciate  the  tremendous  transformation  accomplished  in 
Uncompahgre  Valley.  Those  who  have  made  the  com 
parison  will  be  in  position  to  smile  at  the  picturesquely 
contrasted  titles  of  magazine  articles  that  have  been 
written  about  the  work  of  the  Reclamation  Bureau. 
Look  at  some  of  these,  chosen  at  random: 

The  Drama  of  the  Desert;  Is  Uncle  Sam  Turning 
Socialist?  The  Service  that  Makes  the  Desert  Blos 
som;  Why  Irrigation  Projects  Fail;  Uncle  Sam's  Ro 
mance  with  Science  and  Soil ;  The  Eden  Makers ;  How 
Irrigation  Service  is  Robbing  the  Settlers;  Reclama 
tion's  Part  in  the  Pork  Barrel;  Our  Paternal  Uncle; 
The  Human  Factor  in  Industry;  Uncle  Sam,  Law 
Breaker. 

What  different  points  of  view  are  taken  by  poet  and 
politician,  practical  man  and  demagogue ! 


CHAPTER  VI 
ONE  THOUSAND  MILES  THROUGH  THE  ROCKIES 

TO  Pike  and  Fremont  and  others  of  the  early 
pathfinders  Colorado  proved  a  labyrinth  almost 
impassable,  but  the  way  has  been  made  easy  to 
their  successors  who  wish  to  pierce  to  the  heart  of  the 
ranges,  climb  the  passes  and  the  peaks  and  solve  the  ap 
pealing  mysteries  of  the  alluring  Rockies.  The  ingenu 
ity  of  the  railway  surveyor  and  engineer  and  the  deter 
mination  of  the  builder  of  highways  have  made 
accessible  practically  all  the  marvels  of  a  region  that  is 
ever  calling  to  the  adventurous  to  discover  the  l  i  some 
thing  lost  behind  the  ranges. ' '  The  search  is  wonder 
fully  aided  by  the  freedom  offered  by  the  nineteen 
monster  National  Forests  which  stretch  over  a  large 
portion  of  the  mountains.  Everywhere  through  these 
forests  lead  roads  and  bridle  paths  that  make  easily 
accessible  points  that  otherwise  would  be  forbidden  ter 
ritory.  Specially  notable  in  this  respect,  and  so  easily 
explored,  is  the  Pike  Forest,  whose  million  acres  stretch 
from  Colorado  Springs  to  Denver,  and  include  Pike's 
Peak,  with  numberless  other  attractions  any  one  of 
which  would  make  a  region  remarkable. 

But  Colorado  is  not  a  land  of  a  single  high  peak, 
or  even  a  dozen  or  a  score.  It  is  difficult  to  realize 
that  within  its  bounds  are  at  least  one  hundred  and 
eighty  mountains  higher  than  twelve  thousand  feet, 
while  there  are  more  than  one  hundred  and  ten  moun 
tains  higher  than  thirteen  thousand  feet  each.  Of  the 
fifty-four  summits  in  the  entire  country  with  heights 

5  65 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

greater  than  fourteen  thousand  feet,  to  which  definite 
names  have  been  assigned,  forty- two  are  in  Colorado. 
In  an  advertising  booklet,  which,  after  the  fashion  of 
its  kind,  is  characterized  by  florid  statement,  perhaps 
the  most  startling  sentence  is  given  as  a  fine  print  foot 
note  to  a  pictorial  map  of  mountain  peaks : ' l  There  are 
many  peaks  between  13,500  and  14,500  feet  in  height, 
which  are  unnamed,  and  therefore  are  not  given  on 
the  map. ' ' 

And  all  this  within  an  easy  journey  from  any  part 
of  the  United  States !  Those  who  wish  to  see  mountains 
do  not  need  to  wait  until  they  can  go  to  the  Alps  or  to 
the  Selkirks.  There  is  a  point  in  the  eastern  Selkirks  of 
Canada  where  the  tourist  is  told  that  he  can  see  a  dozen 
great  peaks.  But  there  are  points  in  Colorado  where  he 
can  do  much  better  than  this.  From  the  Marble  Pavil 
ion  in  Cheesman  Park,  Denver,  for  instance — standing 
at  the  time  on  a  height  greater  than  that  of  the  proud 
est  summit  in  Scotland — one  can  see  from  forty  to 
fifty  named  mountains,  from  Pike's  Peak  in  the  south 
to  Mount  Ypsilon  in  the  north,  a  distance  of  one  hun 
dred  and  thirty  miles. 

Fifty-one  miles  northwest  of  Denver  is  Long's  Peak, 
where  Enos  A.  Mills  has  made  his  home  for  years.  From 
this  mountain  he  goes  on  exploring  trips  among  the 
hundreds  of  other  peaks  in  the  state ;  for,  as  state  snow- 
observer,  it  is  his  pleasure  to  circle  here  and  there 
studying  conditions  and  triumphing  over  difficulties 
as  only  a  confirmed  mountain  lover  can  triumph.  Once, 
while  twelve  thousand  five  hundred  feet  high,  he  was 
overtaken  by  a  blinding  storm,  deadly  cold.  To 
pause  long  would  mean  death.  A  friend  told  of 
his  experiences: 

66 


THROUGH   THE   ROCKIES 

He  started  for  the  head  of  a  gorge,  thinking  to 
climb  down  it  to  the  nearest  timber.  Nothing  definite 
could  be  seen.  The  clouds  on  the  snowy  surface  and 
the  electrified  air  gave  the  eye  only  optical  illusions. 
In  the  midst  of  these  illusions  he  walked  out  on  a  snow 
cornice  overhanging  a  precipice.  The  snow  gave  way 
beneath  him.  He  was  buried  in  it.  Then  it  ceased 
moving  downward:  the  mass  of  snow  with  his  body 
had  fallen  on  a  narrow  ledge,  and  caught  there.  When 
he  thrust  his  head  from  the  mass  of  snow  and  looked 
around  him,  he  was  appalled  to  see  the  terrible  height  of 
the  precipice  on  the  face  of  which  he  was  hanging. 
It  took  him  two  hours  to  work  his  way  back  the  twenty 
feet  to  the  top. 

Directly  west  of  Denver  is  the  overpowering  bulk 
of  Gray's  Peak,  while  near-by,  on  Argentine  Pass,  is  one 
of  the  world's  highest  wagon  roads ;  its  altitude  is  about 
thirteen  thousand  feet.  To  Samuel  Bowles,  traveler  of 
1868,  this  was  one  of  the  outstanding  sights  of  the  moun 
tains.  "No  Swiss  Mountain  view  carries  such  majestic 
sweep  of  distance,  such  sublime  combinations  of  height 
and  depth  and  breadth ;  such  uplifting  into  the  province 
of  God, ' '  he  wrote.  t  '  It  was  not  man,  but  God,  that  was 
about,  before,  in  us. ' ' 

Not  so  far  from  Gray's  Peak  that  famous  bit  of 
railway  engineering,  the  Georgetown  Loop,  shows  how 
one  corps  of  railway  builders  solved  a  difficult  problem 
of  mountain  engineering.  Another  world-famed  marvel 
is  near  the  southern  limit  of  the  Denver  prospect — the 
Eoyal  Gorge,  just  far  enough  to  the  west  of  Canon  City 
to  afford  an  opportunity  to  traverse  the  attractive  Sky 
Line  Drive,  built  * l  on  honor  "  by  convicts  from  the  State 
Penitentiary,  on  the  sharp  summit  of  a  limestone  ridge. 
This  ridge  dominates  on  one  side  the  valley  where  the 

67 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

town  nestles  in  its  orchards  nearly  a  thousand  feet  be 
low,  as  well  as  that  new  triumph  of  scenic  roadbuilding, 
the  new  Phantom  Canyon  Highway  to  Cripple  Creek. 
On  the  other  side  of  the  summit,  across  the  valley,  is  the 
Eoyal  Gorge  Park,  a  district  eight  miles  square  which 
Congress  gave  to  Canon  City  for  its  own  particular 
breathing  spot.  Within  the  park  the  Sky  Line  drive  has 
its  terminus,  on  the  brink  of  the  Eoyal  Gorge.  It  is 
not  enough  to  see  the  stupendous  chasm  from  below, 
where  the  railroad  crosses  the  stream  with  the  gorge 
at  a  point  where  it  was  necessary  to  hang  a  bridge  from 
the  rocky  walls;  the  picture  should  be  completed  by 
peering  down  nearly  three  thousand  feet  to  the  silver 
thread  of  the  Arkansas  and  the  toy  railroad  by  its  side. 

Beyond  the  ten  miles  of  the  passage  of  the  railroad 
through  the  gorge  and  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Arkan 
sas — a  passage  made  necessary,  in  the  face  of  the  vocif 
erously  shouted  "impossible!"  of  doubters,  by  the 
clamor  of  Leadville  for  connection  with  the  world  of 
commerce — is  Salida,  a  town  that  rejoices  in  an  exten 
sive  mountain  view  that  includes  the  Sangre  de  Cristo 
Eange,  the  Collegiate  Eange,  whose  lofty  mounts 
Princeton  and  Yale  dwell  in  peace  with  even  loftier 
Harvard  and  Mount  Ouray  and  Mount  Shavano,  dis 
tinguished,  among  other  reasons,  because  between  them 
lies  Marshall  Pass,  where  the  narrow  gauge  line  makes 
eleven  loops  in  the  course  of  its  serpentine  passage. 

Between  Salida  and  Leadville  there  are  always  in 
sight  so  many  mountains  that  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  keep  track  of  them.  From  Leadville,  Mount  Mas 
sive,  the  highest  peak  in  Colorado,  is  visible  in  surpass 
ing  majesty,  ten  miles  southwest  of  the  city,  while  about 
it  are  glaciated  peaks  of  the  Sagauche  Eange,  where  lie 

68 


ROYAL  GORGE  FROM  THE  TOP,  NEAR  CANON  CITY,  COLORADO 


THE  SKY  LINE  DRIVE,  CANON  CITY,  COLORADO 


MOUNT  OF  THE  HOLY  CROSS,  COLORADO 


THROUGH  THE  ROCKIES 

hidden  blue  lakes  and  sparkling  cascades  innumerable. 

The  famous  Mount  of  the  Holy  Cross,  named  be 
cause  of  the  cross  ravines  near  its  summit  filled  with 
never-melting  snow,  may  be  reached  from  Leadville,  but 
a  better  point  of  approach  for  those  who  wish  to  become 
familiar  with  it  is  from  Bed  Cliff,  near  Eagle  Eiver 
Canyon,  where  the  tracks  of  the  railroad  are  on  both 
sides  of  the  stream,  the  engineers  not  having  found 
room  for  both  on  one  side,  and  where,  from  the  track, 
the  traveler  may  look  up  nearly  two  thousand  feet  and 
see  the  black  mouths  of  many  mines,  "like  dormer 
windows  in  the  granite  mountain  roof. ' ' 

Eagle  Canyon  has  a  surprise  up  its  sleeve,  for,  hid 
den  here  in  the  fastnesses  of  the  mountain,  are  some  of 
Colorado's  most  fertile  lands.  Eagle  Canyon  leads  to 
the  more  forbidding  Canyon  of  the  Grand  and  this  in 
turn  shows  the  way  to  Glenwood  Springs,  where  the  Ute 
Indians  turned  for  healing  when  their  beloved  Manitou 
had  been  left  behind  forever. 

There  is  another  reminder  of  Manitou  some  dis 
tance  farther  on,  beyond  the  smiling  region  of  irrigated 
Grand  Valley  and  prosperous  Grand  Junction — the 
highly  colored  sandstone  monoliths,  hundreds  of  feet 
high,  within  canyons  whose  towering  walls  are  the 
frame  of  these  features  of  the  fourteen-thousand-acre 
Colorado  National  Monument.  This  monument  owes  to 
the  tireless  efforts  of  John  Otto  its  inclusion  among  the 
playgrounds  of  the  Nation. 

There  are  so  many  notable  canyons  in  Colorado,  it  is 
impossible  to  name  them  all.  But  each  has  its  distinc 
tive  features.  South  of  Grand  Junction  and  east  of 
Montrose  some  of  these  water-worn  fissures  have  sup 
plied  many  railroad  engineers  with  problems  that  satis- 

69 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

fied  even  their  rapacious  appetites  for  conquest.  In  the 
Black  Canyon  of  the  Gunnison — why  was  it  called  black 
when  it  presents  an  aspect  so  pleasing  by  reason  of  its 
many-colored  rocks? — they  found  the  combination  of 
tumbling  stream  and  scattered  boulders,  of  rocky  walls 
and  narrow  ledges,  that  gave  them  delight  in  their  work 
of  mountain  conquest.  *  '  The  canyon  is  but  a  cleft  in  the 
heart  of  a  mountain, "  an  early  traveler  described  it 
vividly.  "  Cleave  Mount  Washington  from  summit  to 
base  with  a  mighty  stroke,  and  there  will  be  made  a 
gorge  in  the  mountain  resembling,  in  a  sickly  way,  the 
Black  Canyon  of  the  Gunnison." 

To  the  south  of  Gunnison  are  the  mysterious  San 
Juan  mountains,  in  whose  heart  is  Lake  City,  a  town 
built  by  the  side  of  one  of  the  many  branches  of  the 
Gunnison,  which  meanders  away  delightfully  into  the 
mountain  fastnesses. 

Some  of  the  mountains  reached  easily  from  Lake 
City  are  as  distinctive  as  any  to  be  found  in  Colorado. 
Uncompahgre  Peak  looks  like  one  of  the  Himalayas, 
while  Whitecross  Mountain,  whose  tree-clad  slopes  are 
surmounted  by  a  bare  rock  peak,  with  a  broken  cone 
on  one  side,  is  marked  by  a  quartz  cross  on  its  side  that 
is  responsible  for  the  name.  Bed  Cloud  Mountain,  loft 
ier  than  Whitecross,  does  not  look  so  high  from  some 
directions  because  its  slopes  are  more  gradual,  but  its 
majestic  proportions  become  more  impressive  as  they 
are  approached. 

South  of  Lake  City  there  is  an  alluring  region  as 
yet  unconquered  by  the  railroad,  though  it  is  ap 
proached  by  half-a-dozen  spurs.  Each  of  the  spurs 
seems  to  be  pointing  a  finger  to  scenes  it  has  not  reached, 
but  whose  attractions  it  knows.  Here,  in  the  most 

70 


THROUGH  THE  ROCKIES 

rugged  region  of  the  state,  there  is  opportunity  for 
many  excursions  to  scenes  of  surpassing  interest 
and  grandeur. 

From  Creede  one  of  the  spurs  calls  across  the  moun 
tains  to  Wheeler  National  Monument,  where  are  set 
apart  320  acres  of  curious,  majestic  erosions  that  seem 
like  a  miniature  Canyon  of  the  Colorado,  and  to  the 
near-by  Wagon  Wheel  Gap,  named  because  of  the  dis 
covery  on  this  alluring  site  by  the  Rio  Grande  del 
Norte  of  a  number  of  old  wagon  wheels  left  behind 
by  Fremont,  the  explorer,  at  the  close  of  the  fearful 
winter  spent  there  by  his  hardy  pioneers  when  their 
leader  attempted  to  cross  the  Rockies  at  the  wrong 
season,  in  the  face  of  the  warnings  of  Kit  Carson. 

To  the  west  of  Lake  City,  at  the  end  of  another 
spur,  Ouray  has  a  commanding  location  on  the  bank 
of  the  Uncompahgre  River,  and  at  the  beginning  of  the 
remarkable  twenty-four-mile  mountain  road  to  Silver- 
ton.  For  the  first  twelve  miles  to  Red  Mountain  town 
this  road  looks  far  down  into  gorges  and  gulches  from 
shelves  which  have  been  blasted  for  it  with  patient  cun 
ning.  On  heights  like  these,  where  it  is  possible  to  see 
for  seemingly  endless  miles  in  the  clear  air,  the  traveler 
will  feel  like  shouting  for  the  joy  of  living.  He  may 
try  to  repress  his  exuberance,  for  fear  of  what  some 
fellow  traveler  may  think  of  his  inexperience,  until  he 
learns  that  the  companion  is  as  eager  as  he  to  rejoice. 
Then  what  a  jubilee  they  can  have  together ! 

Between  Ouray  and  Silverton  many  more  of  the 
tremendous  peaks  beckon  compellingly.  It  is  not  easy 
to  pass  them  and  return  to  the  railroad  that  plays  hide 
and  seek  with  the  southern  boundary  of  the  state,  finally 
crossing  the  divide  at  Cumbres  Pass,  almost  on  the 

71 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

boundary  line,  then  threading  a  precarious  path  fifteen 
hundred  feet  above  Toltec  Gorge,  and  passing  among 
the  monoliths  of  Phantom  Curve. 

' '  How  could  the  road  be  built  over  such  obstacles  f ' ' 
one  is  tempted  to  ask.  A  notable  answer  was  given  by 
Governor  Hunt  of  Colorado  who,  with  General  Palmer, 
planned  the  Denver  and  Eio  Grande.  Once  he  was 
asked  how  he  ever  thought  of  getting  a  road  over  La 
Veta  Pass,  where  the  Veta  Mountains  are  crossed  near 
Alamosa,  northeast  of  Cumbres.  "A  mule  taught  me 
the  trick, "  was  the  reply.  "General  Palmer  and  I 
walked  over  La  Veta  Pass  time  and  time  again,  anxious 
to  build  the  line,  but  discouraged  by  every  engineer  in 
the  country  from  attempting  it.  At  last,  one  day, 
I  saw  a  mule  walking  up  the  mountain.  He  did  not  go 
straight  up,  but  went  in  a  zigzag  way.  His  movements 
suggested  what  we  should  do — wind  back  and  forth  up 
the  mountain  side." 


CHAPTER  VII 
THROUGH  THE  LAND  OF  FOSSILS 

SOUTHERN  Wyoming  is  the  paradise  of  the  fossil 
hunter.  For  good  measure,  the  fossil  regions  be 
gin  east  of  the  Wyoming  country,  and  extend 
clear  to  the  Wasatch  Mountains  in  Utah.  The  eager 
scientist  for  whom  a  country  is  beautiful  only  accord 
ing  to  the  readiness  of  the  rocks  to  yield  secrets  of  past 
animal  life  has  found,  near  Sydney,  Nebraska,  bones 
that  told  him  of  a  strange  horse  that  pranced  over  the 
plains  many  thousand  years  ago.  To  this  horse  has  been 
given  the  awe-inspiring  name  chalicotheres.  Its  front 
feet  were  long,  its  hind  legs  were  short,  there  were  three 
toes  on  each  foot  and  each  toe  ended  in  a  great  claw. 
But  the  chalicotheres  could  take  pointers  from  the 
sandyoceras  whose  head  was  like  that  of  an  antelope, 
though  it  had  four  horns ;  over  the  eyes  were  two  horns 
that  curved  inward,  and  lower  down,  near  the  mouth, 
were  smaller  horns  that  curved  outward.  Companion 
animals  of  these  awe-inspiring  creatures  were  a  camel 
about  the  size  of  a  ship,  a  rhinoceros  and  a  mastodon. 

Practice  on  the  bones  of  such  monsters  gave  the 
eager  students  of  skeletons  an  appetite  for  the  disclos 
ures  of  Como  Bluff,  Wyoming,  where  they  found  the 
bones  of  a  dinosaur  more  than  seventy  feet  long.  He 
walked  on  all  fours,  but  he  could  rear  himself  upright 
in  what  must  have  seemed  a  most  ridiculous  fashion. 
His  tail  stretched  thirty  feet  along  the  ground.  Next 
was  his  upright  body,  twenty  feet  long,  and  his  neck, 
extending  twenty  to  twenty-four  feet  more,  while  the 

73 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

whole  was  crowned  in  ludicrous  fashion  by  a  head  no 
larger  than  that  of  an  ordinary  horse.  His  weight  must 
have  been  eighteen  or  twenty  tons.  He  was  named 
Brontosaurus,  or  thunder  lizard. 

Three  men  were  in  the  party  that  discovered  the 
bones  which,  when  put  together,  showed  how  this  mighty 
creature  must  have  looked.  They  were  scientists  sent 
out  by  a  museum  to  look  for  fossils.  At  Medicine  Bow 
they  left  the  train  and  pushed  on  by  wagon  to  the  fossil 
grounds.  It  was  an  unattractive  place  in  which  they 
finally  pitched  their  tents,  but  they  knew  that  here,  if 
anywhere,  they  would  be  able  to  make  the  discovery 
for  which  they  had  been  planning.  For  here  was  the 
bed  of  the  ancient  lake  where  dinosaurs  once  made 
their  home. 

At  once  the  scientists  began  a  careful  search  of  the 
region  for  miles  around.  To  most  people  there  would 
have  been  no  signs  of  fossils,  but  the  trained  men  knew 
where  and  how  to  look  for  them.  A  slight  indication  on 
the  surface  of  the  rock  might  be  enough  to  tell  them  that, 
buried  in  that  rock,  were  bones  whose  scientific  value 
was  incalculable.  Once  no  sign  could  have  been  found 
on  the  surface,  but  through  many  ages  the  rock  had 
been  worn  away,  and  the  bones  have  been  exposed. 

No  discoveries  of  any  importance  were  made  for 
many  days.  Discouraged,  the  men  decided  to  move  on 
unless  some  sign  appeared.  Then  one  of  them  saw,  at 
the  base  of  a  bluff,  the  unmistakable  mouth  of  a  dino 
saur.  Near  by  he  found  signs  of  a  section  of  the  back 
bone.  He  hurried  to  camp  and  told  his  exciting  tale 
to  his  companions,  who  again  had  returned  empty- 
handed  from  their  scrutiny  of  the  rocks. 

Next  morning  the  three  men,  as  well  as  the  laborers 

74 


THROUGH  THE  LAND  OF  FOSSILS 

who  accompanied  them,  were  searching  for  other  parts 
of  the  skeleton.  When  nothing  further  was  found,  they 
concluded  that  the  body  lay  buried  in  the  bluff. 

But  the  bluff  was  of  solid  rock.  Then  must  they 
give  up  their  search?  They  did  not  propose  to  turn 
back  when  what  they  sought  was  within  their  grasp. 
So  they  began  the  attack  on  the  bluff. 

Before  they  had  gone  far  they  found  enough  of 
the  skeleton  to  show  that  they  were  on  the  right  track. 
They  had  to  revise  their  estimate  of  the  length  of  time 
necessary  to  complete  the  task.  A  tunnel  must  be 
blasted  in  the  hard  rock,  and  a  year,  perhaps  two  years, 
would  pass  before  their  work  was  done. 

It  was  impossible  to  remove  the  bones  from  their 
rocky  bed,  so  great  slabs  of  stone  were  quarried.  In 
each  slab  was  a  portion  of  the  skeleton.  About  this 
slab  was  wrapped  a  piece  of  burlap  wet  in  plaster-of- 
Paris.  As  soon  as  the  plaster  hardened,  the  slab  was 
put  aside  for  transportation  to  the  railroad  station. 
Successive  slabs  were  given  numbers  according  to  their 
location  in  the  bluff,  in  order  that,  when  the  bones  were 
removed  from  the  rock,  it  might  be  possible  to  arrange 
them  in  order. 

The  entire  skeleton  could  not  be  found.  This  was 
not  expected,  for  the  searchers  knew  that  in  all  proba 
bility  the  body  of  the  dinosaur  was  attacked  by  other 
greedy  reptiles  which  succeeded  in  carrying  away  por 
tions  to  other  parts  of  the  lake. 

Finally  all  the  slabs  were  before  other  scientists 
in  the  distant  museum.  But  the  work  was  far  from 
complete.  They  knew  that  before  them  stretched  from 
one  to  three  years'  toil,  chipping  away  at  the  slabs  to 
separate  fossil  bones  from  the  encasing  stone.  They 

75 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

faced  their  task  with  as  much  zeal  as  the  scientists  had 
shown  in  tunneling  the  Wyoming  bluff.  Great  care  was 
required,  or  the  bones  would  be  broken  into  small  bits. 

But  at  last  the  work  was  done,  and  the  erection  of 
the  skeleton  was  begun.  The  head  was  almost  perfect. 
So  was  the  great  neck.  A  few  ribs  were  lacking,  but 
these  were  made  from  plaster-of-Paris.  There  was 
but  one  hind  foot,  yet  it  was  easy  to  make  another  to 
match  it.  So  the  work  proceeded,  until  at  last  the  skele 
ton  was  complete,  ready  for  the  daily  procession  of 
visitors  who  marvel  not  only  at  the  creature  which  lived 
on  the  earth  so  long  ago,  but  at  the  power  of  Him  who 
preserved  the  skeleton  in  such  wonderful  manner. 

Another  eager  party  of  Princeton  University  scien 
tists  made  a  find  near  Bridger,  not  far  from  the  Utah 
line,  after  a  long  hunt,  one  day  in  1884.  They  were  about 
to  give  up  thought  of  finding  anything  especially  note 
worthy  when  one  of  the  party  saw  a  jawbone  with  teeth 
sticking  out  of  the  base  of  a  butte.  To  his  joy  the  result 
was  the  uncovering  of  the  most  complete  specimen  ever 
discovered  of  the  Mesonyx,  a  flesh-eating  animal  with 
peculiar  claws.  Probably  it  was  not  unlike  the  wolf  in 
,  general  appearance.  The  restoration  to  be  seen  at 
Princeton  shows  it  was  about  twenty-two  inches  high 
and  sixty-one  inches  from  nose  to  tip  of  tail.  This 
pioneer  trailed  over  the  Bad  Lands  so  many  thousand 
years  ago  that  it  is  a  weariness  to  count  back  to  his  time. 

In  southwestern  Wyoming  are  two  stations  on  the 
Union  Pacific  Railway  that  tell  the  story  of  more  of 
these  odd  remains  of  an  age  long  forgotten.  There  is 
Fish  Cut,  near  Green  Eiver,  where  fossil  fishes  are 
preserved  in  the  rock,  and  Fossil,  the  resort  of  the 
hunters  for  curios,  to  satisfy  the  traveler. 

76 


THROUGH  THE  LAND  OF  FOSSILS 

Whoever  named  these  stations  must  have  felt  that 
he  should  keep  pace  with  those  who  had  given  titles  to 
many  of  the  localities  on  the  line  of  the  Union  Pacific — 
which  is  also  the  route  of  the  Lincoln  Highway  through 
Southern  Wyoming.  Perhaps  no  other  bit  of  highway 
in  the  country  has  so  large  a  proportion  of  really  de 
scriptive  names  as  the  seven-hundred-mile  stretch  from 
Julesburg,  Colorado,  to  Ogden,  Utah. 

Julesburg,  for  instance,  was  named  when  it  was  a 
station  on  Ben  Holliday's  stage  line  on  the  Overland 
Route  to  California.  The  representative  of  the  trans 
portation  company  at  this  point  was  known  as  Jules, 
and  he  was  such  an  important  personage  that  the  settle 
ment  about  the  fort  established  for  the  protection  of 
travelers  from  marauding  Indians  was  called  Jules 
burg.  In  1865,  when  the  original  settlement  was  burned 
by  the  Indians,  it  was  rebuilt  on  another  site.  Later 
the  town  was  twice  removed  to  a  new  location,  but  the 
name  of  the  pioneer  was  always  retained. 

Julesburg  was  a  bustling  town  in  the  days  of  the  pio 
neers,  sharing  with  Cheyenne,  later  the  picturesque 
capital  of  Wyoming,  the  reputation  for  wildness.  Sioux 
braves  on  the  warpath,  as  well  as  immense  herds  of 
buffalo,  were  drawn  to  the  locality,  and  there  was  an 
endless  procession  of  the  white-topped  wagons  of  the 
freighter  and  the  homeseeker.  F.  A.  Root,  a  messenger 
on  the  Overland  Stage  Line,  counted  in  a  single  day's 
ride,  east  of  Julesburg,  888  westbound  wagons,  drawn 
by  10,650  oxen,  horses  and  mules.  A  road  experience 
related  by  the  same  rider  by  stage,  whose  route  from 
Atchison  to  Denver  led  through  Julesburg,  helps  in 
the  formation  of  a  vivid  picture  of  life  as  seen  by  the 
old  town : 

77 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

An  Atchison  freighter  had  just  pulled  out  with  his 
ox  train  on  Monday  morning,  a  few  minutes  before  the 
regular  hour  of  departure  for  the  stage-coach.  I  passed 
him  on  Eighth  Street,  then  at  the  extreme  western  busi 
ness  portion  of  the  city,  and  reached  Denver  in  six  days. 
Remaining  there  two  days  I  started  on  my  return  trip 
to  Atchison.  On  my  way  I  met  and  chatted  briefly  with 
my  friend  somewhere  near  the  head  waters  of  the  Little 
Blue  Eiver,  near  the  Divide,  perhaps  twenty-five  miles 
southwest  of  Fort  Kearney.  I  reached  Atchison,  re 
maining  a  week.  On  my  way  west  the  next  trip  I  passed 
my  friend  again  on  the  South  Platte.  I  reached  Den 
ver,  stopping  two  days,  then  returned  to  Atchison  on 
my  regular  trip,  meeting  his  wagon  on  my  way  east. 
Eemaining  another  week  in  Atchison,  I  pulled  out  with 
the  stage-coach,  once  more  for  the  Colorado  metropolis. 
Imagine  my  surprise  when,  within  a  few  miles  of  Den 
ver,  I  was  greeted  by  the  freighter's  familiar  voice. 
During  the  time  he  had  been  making  his  trip  of  653 
miles,  with  his  oxen,  traveling  every  day  except  Sun 
days,  I  had  ridden  five  times  across  the  plains,  a  dis 
tance  of  3265  miles,  and  had  laid  by  eighteen  days. 

A  man  of  an  entirely  different  sort,  General  W.  T. 
Sherman,  gave  his  name  to  a  village  on  the  highest  point 
of  the  Laramie  Range  crossed  by  the  railroad,  from 
which  it  is  possible,  under  favorable  conditions,  to  see 
Pike's  Peak,  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  miles  south. 
When  the  railroad  was  built  the  rails  were  laid  two 
miles  north  of  Sherman,  and  a  stone  pyramid,  sixty  feet 
square  and  sixty  feet  high,  was  erected  to  Oliver  and 
Oakes  Ames,  the  brothers  to  whom  credit  is  due  for 
pushing  through  to  completion  the  Union  Pacific  Rail 
road;  they  persisted  in  the  face  of  the  opposition  of 
railroad  men  who  said  that  only  a  madman  would  think 
of  building  a  railroad  over  a  mountain  eight  thousand 
feet  high.  The  great  pile  of  cut  stone  is  of  special 

78 


THROUGH   THE   LAND   OP  FOSSILS 

interest  because,  when  the  railroad  was  removed  so  as 
to  decrease  the  altitude  two  hundred  and  thirty-seven 
feet,  the  stones  were  taken  down  one  by  one  and  were 
carried  on  wagons  to  the  new  location  where  the  pile 
was  erected  as  before.  An  examination  of  the  medal 
lions  of  the  brothers  revealed  the  fact  that  the  carving 
of  that  to  Oliver  Ames,  on  the  northwest  side,  had  been 
much  worn  by  the  storms  of  forty  years,  though  that 
devoted  to  Oakes  Ames,  which  faced  the  southwest,  was 
as  good  as  when  the  pyramid  was  new. 

Laramie  perpetuates  the  famous  Fort/  Laramie, 
named  for  Jacques  La  Eamie,  a  French  fur  trader  who 
visited  the  region  long  before  the  railroad  was  thought 
of.  Visitors  to  the  second  city  in  Wyoming  are 
attracted  to  the  odd  pinnacles  and  turrets  and  castel 
lated  crags  at  Red  Buttes,  a  few  miles  south,  which  have 
been  fashioned  by  erosion  from  the  red  sandstone  cliffs. 

The  ingenuity  of  those  who  like  to  account  for  things 
has  been  taxed  by  the  town  Medicine  Bow,  not  far  from 
the  mountain  of  the  same  name.  One  explanation  seems 
a  little  far-fetched,  but  it  must  be  accepted  for  lack  of 
a  better.  Some  of  the  Indians  were  accustomed  to  go 
to  the  mountain  to  gather  a  favorite  wood  for  their 
bows.  Since  "  anything  that  serves  its  purpose  well 
is  'good  medicine,'  "  the  name  Medicine  Bow  was  easily 
applied  to  the  mountain,  and  after  that  to  the  town. 

That  it  is  not  difficult  to  go.  too  far  in  ascribing  names 
to  the  Indians  is  illustrated  by  the  attempt  of  some 
recent  map  makers  to  fasten  the  name  Seminole  on  the 
range  of  mountains  north  of  Grenville,  and  fifty-three 
miles  from  Medicine  Bow.  Evidently  they  thought  that 
previous  map  makers  had  omitted  a  letter  when  calling 
them  Seminoe,  and  that  they  had  been  named  after  the 

79 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Seminole  Indians,  when  the  truth  is  that  the  Indians 
had  nothing  to  do  with  them;  they  commemorate  the 
prowess  of  Seminoe  Lajeunesse,  one  of  the  French 
trappers  of  the  early  days. 

A  much  more  picturesque  character,  James  Bridger, 
gave  his  name  to  one  of  the  last  stations  in  Wyoming 
before  the  Utah  line  is  crossed.  As  a  trapper  Bridger 
became  so  familiar  with  the  country  that  when  he  was 
still  a  young  man  he  was  called  "the  old  man  of  the 
mountains. ' '  He  was  the  builder  of  Fort  Bridger,  and 
when  a  garrison  of  United  States  soldiers  was  sent 
there  he  became  a  guide  and  a  scout.  Once,  while  on 
the  road,  he  met  the  first  Mormons,  bound  for  Utah. 
He  did  his  best  to  discourage  them  from  attempting  to 
make  a  home  near  the  Great  Salt  Lake. 

One  of  the  exploring  expeditions  with  which  Bridger 
came  in  touch,  that  led  by  Howard  Stansbury  in  1849, 
was  readier  to  listen  to  tales  of  the  difficulties  of  the 
country;  they  had  been  made  ready  for  such  stories 
by  difficulties  they  had  seen  for  themselves.  Once,  when 
near  Fort  Laramie,  the  leader  wrote : 

To-day  we  find  additional  and  melancholy  evidence 
of  the  difficulties  encountered  by  those  who  are  ahead 
of  us.  Before  halting  to  noon,  we  passed  eleven  wagons 
that  had  been  broken  up,  the  spokes  of  the  wheels  taken 
to  make  pack-saddles,  and  the  rest  burned  or  otherwise 
destroyed.  The  roadbed  was  literally  strewn  with 
wheels  that  have  been  thrown  away.  Bar-iron  and 
steel,  large  blacksmiths'  anvils  and  bellows,  crow-bars, 
drills,  augers,  gold-washers,  chisels,  axes,  lead,  bricks, 
spades,  ploughs,  large  grindstones,  baking-ovens,  cook 
ing-stoves  without  number,  kegs,  barrels,  harness,  cloth 
ing,  bacon  and  beans,  we  found  along  the  road  in  pretty 
much  the  order  in  which  they  have  been  enumerated. 

80 


THROUGH  THE  LAND  OF  FOSSILS 

The  carcasses  of  eight  oxen,  lying  in  one  heap  by  the 
roadside,  this  morning,  explained  a  part  of  the  trouble. 
.  .  .  At  the  noon  halt  an  excellent  rifle  was  found 
in  the  river,  thrown  there  by  some  desperate  emigrant 
who  had  been  unable  to  carry  it  any  further.  In  the 
course  of  this  one  day  the  relics  of  seventeen  wagons  and 
the  carcasses  of  twenty-seven  dead  oxen  have  been  seen. 

One  of  the  difficult  parts  of  the  route  for  the  emi 
grants  was  the  Eed  Desert,  first  seen  well  near  Bridger. 
This  is  a  curious  stretch  of  shifting  sand  dunes,  that 
extends  for  a  distance  of  one  hundred  miles.  Many  of 
these  dunes  are  one  hundred  feet  high  or  more.  All  of 
them  are  traveling  with  the  wind  in  a  northeasterly 
direction.  "If  a  few  camels  and  an  Arab  or  two  were 
added  to  the  scene,  a  spectator  could  easily  imagine 
himself  in  the  Sahara  Desert, "  writes  the  author  of  a 
government  bulletin  who  evidently  believes  that  there 
is  no  more  reason  for  making  such  a  document  dull  and 
colorless  than  Bill  Nye,  who  made  Laramie  famous,  felt 
there  was  for  confining  the  reading  matter  of  a  railway 
guide  to  "  a  wild  incontinence  of  facts,  figures  and  refer 
ences  to  meal  stations, M  but  desired  instead  to  make  a 
guide  on  a  new  plan  that  would  not  "permit  informa 
tion  to  creep  in  and  mar  the  reader's  enjoyment  of 
the  scenery. " 

There  is  no  lack  of  scenery  in  the  Eed  Desert,  with 
its  mirages  and  the  gorgeous  colorings  of  many  shades 
of  red  and  gray  and  brown  and  green  and  purple  and 
yellow.  When  one  wearies  of  the  high  coloring  about 
him,  it  is  possible  to  look  up  to  the  mountains.  For 
there  are  many  snow-clad  peaks  in  Southern  Wyoming. 
One  of  the  most  notable  granite  summits  south  of  the 
railroad,  Elk  Mountain,  is  seven  miles  in  diameter  at 

6  81 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

its  base,  and  may  be  seen  for  nearly  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  of  the  journey  across  the  state. 

There  are  gorges  and  canyons,  too,  through  this 
favored  section — for  instance,  the  gorge  of  Bitter  Creek, 
near  its  entrance  to  Green  River,  one  of  the  streams 
that  later  become  responsible  for  the  Colorado,  the 
grandfather  of  all  the  canyons.  The  geologists  say 
that  millions  of  years  ago  Bitter  Creek  did  some  re 
markable  erosion  work,  cutting  a  gorge  for  itself  more 
than  a  thousand  feet  deep  through  formations  that  have 
since  been  leveled  and  carried  away  to  form  other 
lands.  The  government  document  already  quoted  again 
proves  its  ability  to  depart  from  prosaic  figures  and  dry 
catalogues  by  saying : 

The  volume  of  rock  removed  by  this  small  stream 
alone  would  probably  be  reckoned  in  hundreds  of  cubic 
miles,  and  all  of  it  found  its  way  through  the  narrow 
gorge  to  Green  Eiver.  Hundreds  of  other  streams  deliv 
ered  similar  amounts  to  the  same  river,  and  the  question 
may  well  be  asked,  What  became  of  it  all  I  Those  who 
have  visited  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado  in  Ari 
zona  have  noted  the  muddy  water  of  that  river  and  won 
dered  where  the  mud  came  from.  Some  of  it  came  from 
Wyoming.  Those  who  have  visited  the  built-up  plains 
and  filled  barriers  that  mark  the  ancient  course  of  Colo 
rado  Eiver  in  Western  Arizona  have  wondered  where 
the  material  came  from  to  fill  these  enormous  barriers. 
Some  of  it  came  from  the  valleys  through  which  the 
Union  Pacific  Railroad  is  built.  Those  who  have  trav 
eled  over  the  Southern  Pacific  line  in  Southern  Cali 
fornia  where  it  crosses  the  broad  delta  which  the 
Colorado  built  out  across  the  Gulf  of  California  so  far 
that  the  north  end  of  the  Gulf — now  the  Salton  Sink — 
was  completely  cut  off  from  the  main  part  of  the  gulf, 
have  wondered  where  all  the  sand  and  silt  of  that  great 

82 


OX    GREEX    RIVER,    WYOMING 


DEVIL  S    SLIDE,    WEBER    CANYON,    UTAH 


THROUGH   THE  LAND   OF  FOSSILS 

delta  came  from.  Some  of  it  once  rested  on  the  arch 
of  the  Book  Springs  dome,  through  which  Bitter  Creek 
cuts  its  way. 

The  town  of  Green  Eiver  looks  back  from  the  river 
on  a  series  of  picturesque  shale  and  sandstone  bluffs, 
brilliantly  colored,  pleasingly  stratified  and  marvel- 
ously  fashioned  in  forms  that  it  would  be  impossible 
to  counterfeit.  A  study  of  the  bluffs  along  the  river 
and  of  isolated  natural  monuments  like  the  ' '  teapot  and 
cup"  will  be  a  good  preparation  for  the  examination 
of  Steamboat  Eock,  or  Pulpit  Eock,  or  Jack-in-the-Pul- 
pit,  or  the  Sphinx  in  Echo  Canyon,  over  the  line  in  Utah, 
or  The  Witches,  near  by,  a  weird  group  of  pinnacles, 
some  of  them  as  high  as  one  hundred  feet,  the  joint  prod 
uct  of  wind  and  rain ;  or  The  Devil's  Slide,  a  few  miles 
farther  west,  formed  by  the  washing  away  of  soft  shale 
from  about  two  parallel  upright  ledges  of  limestone, 
forty  feet  high,  and  twenty  feet  apart. 

Many  years  ago  a  writer  in  the  Overland  Monthly, 
speaking  of  such  strange  monuments  as  these  in  all 
parts  of  the  world,  that  "bear  resemblance  to  the  human 
form  or  face,  or  take  the  shape  of  some  animal,"  said 
it  would  be  fitting  to  apply  to  them  Shakespeare's  scene 
between  Hamlet  and  Polonius,  if  for  " cloud"  should 
be  read  " rock."  Thus: 

Hamlet.  Do  you  see  yonder  rock  that's  almost  in 
shape  of  a  camel! 

Polonius.    By  the  Mass,  and  'tis  like  a  camel,  indeed. 
Hamlet.    Methinks  it  is  like  a  weasel. 
Polonius.    It  is  backed  like  a  weasel. 
Hamlet.    Or  like  a  whale. 
Polonius.    Very  like  a  whale. 

83 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

All  the  traveler  needs  is  imagination  when  looking 
at  the  startling  formations  of  "Wyoming  and  Utah. 
They  represent  just  what  he  pleases  to  call  them. 

A  little  while  before  crossing  from  Wyoming  into 
Utah  the  railroad  passes  through  the  Aspen  Eidge 
by  means  of  the  famous  Aspen  tunnel.  It  is  possible 
to  pile  up  a  lot  of  statistics  about  this  bore,  more  than 
a  mile  long,  but  it  is  so  much  more  interesting  to  read 
the  description  of  the  work  given  by  one  who  has  told, 
as  if  he  really  enjoyed  the  telling,  of  some  of  the  marvels 
of  railway  engineering  in  the  United  States : 

They  struck  a  mountain  that  for  startling  develop 
ments  broke  the  records  in  the  annals  of  American  engi 
neering.  It  was  here  that  the  underground  stream  was 
encountered,  but  this  was  a  mere  incident  among  the 
possibilities  in  the  mountain.  ...  To  bore  a  hole 
through  the  mountain  at  a  depth  of  450  feet  from  the 
highest  point  was  not  difficult;  but  the  curious  thing 
was  that,  after  being  bored,  the  hole  would  not  stay 
straight.  The  mountain,  reversing  every  metaphor  and 
rule  of  stability,  refused  to  remain  in  the  same  position 
for  two  days  together.  It  moved  forcibly  into  the  bore 
from  the  right  side,  and,  when  remonstrated  with,  stole 
quietly  in  from  the  left ;  it  descended  on  the  tunnel  with 
crushing  force  from  above  and  rose  irresistibly  up  into 
it  from  below.  The  mountain  moved  from  every  quar 
ter  of  the  compass  and  from  quarters  hardly  covered 
by  the  compass.  Workmen  grew  superstitious,  contrac 
tors  suffered  chills,  and  engineers  stood  nonplussed. 
Starting  in  huge  cleavage  planes,  the  shale  became  at 
times  absolutely  uncontrollable.  Wall  plates  well  fash 
ioned  into  regular  alignments  at  night  looked  in  the 
morning  as  if  giants  had  twisted  them ;  12  x  12  hard  pine 
timbers,  laid  skin  to  skin  in  the  tunnel,  were  snapped 
like  matches  by  a  mysterious  pressure.  Engineers  are 
on  record  as  stating  that  in  the  Aspen  tunnel  such  con- 

84 


THROUGH  THE  LAND   OF  FOSSILS 

struction  timbers  were  broken  in  different  directions 
within  a  length  of  four  feet.  An  engineer  stood  one  day 
in  the  tunnel  on  a  solid  floor  of  these  timbers,  when 
under  him,  and  for  a  distance  of  200  feet  ahead  of  him, 
the  floor  rose,  straining  and  cracking,  three  feet  up  into 
the  air.  Before  the  tunnel  could  be  finished  it  became 
necessary  to  line  over  seven  hundred  feet  of  it  with  a 
heavy  steel  and  concrete  construction. 

When  the  Mormon  vanguard  crossed  the  mountain 
they  used  the  route  over  Aspen  Eidge.  The  one  hundred 
and  fifty  men  and  three  women  in  the  party  had  crossed 
Wyoming  by  a  trail  marked  out  for  them  by  Brigham 
Young,  the  leader,  close  to  the  Overland  Trail,  yet 
diverging  from  it  except  at  some  difficult  river  crossings 
and  in  mountain  passes.  After  crossing  the  mountains 
into  Utah  they  followed  Emigration  Canyon  to  Salt 
Lake  City. 

The  route  of  the  railroad  to  Ogden  follows  Echo 
Canyon,  whose  twenty-five  miles  became  famous  in 
1857  because  here  the  Mormons  prepared  to  resist  the 
2500  soldiers  sent  to  Utah  by  President  Buchanan  to 
back  his  appointment  of  a  successor  to  Brigham  Young 
as  governor,  who  did  not  propose  to  be  superseded. 

The  canyon,  whose  walls  in  some  places  are  one 
thousand  feet  high,  and  approach  within  a  stone's  throw 
of  each  other,  afforded  a  wonderful  opportunity  for 
defence.  Fortifications  were  built  on  the  north  wall. 
Breastworks  and  ditches  in  the  canyon  itself  were  a  part 
of  the  scheme  for  holding  back  the  United  States  troops, 
whose  leader,  after  the  capture  of  several  supply  trains 
by  the  Mormons,  decided  to  withdraw  for  the  winter  to 
the  region  of  Fort  Bridger.  Then,  in  June,  1858,  they 
made  their  way  without  resistance  toward  Salt  Lake 

85 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

City,  and  were  met  by  messengers  who  told  of  sub 
mission.  One  who  was  in  the  expedition  wrote  of 
the  journey: 

For  miles  and  miles  in  the  gorges,  at  the  season 
of  the  year  when  they  were  traversed  by  the  army,  the 
road  winds  through  thickets  of  alder  and  willows  and 
hawthorn,  whose  branches  interlace  and  hang  so  low, 
under  the  load  of  leaves  and  blossoms,  as  to  sweep  the 
backs  of  horsemen.  The  ridges  which  the  road  sur 
mounts  between  canyon  and  canyon  are  covered  with 
fields  of  luxurious  grass  and  flowers,  in  the  midst  of 
which  patches  of  snow  still  linger.  From  these,  in  the 
clear  noon  sunshine,  the  broken  line  of  the  Wasatch 
and  Uintah  Eanges  is  visible  along  the  horizon;  but 
through  the  morning  and  evening  haze,  only  the  tracery 
of  the  white  crests  can  be  discerned.  The  valleys  of  the 
Bear  and  Weber  Eivers  are  particularly  beautiful. 

From  Echo  Canyon,  where  traces  of  the  Mormon 
fortification  of  1857  may  still  be  seen  high  up  on  the 
cliffs,  the  railroad  enters  Weber  Canyon  and  leads  to 
Ogden,  though  the  Lincoln  Highway  goes  directly  to 
Salt  Lake  City.  Beyond  the  canyon  lie  smiling  valleys 
whose  green  fields  and  burdened  orchards  tell  eloquently 
that  Brigham  Young  was  justified  when  he  laughed  at 
James  Bridger's  skeptical  offer  of  a  thousand  dollars 
for  the  first  ear  of  corn  raised  in  the  Zion  to  which  the 
prophet  was  leading  his  people,  a  region  that  has  been 
made  so  gloriously  productive  that  it  is  one  of  the 
marvels  of  the  West. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
FROM  THE  YELLOWSTONE  TO  THE  GRAND  CANYON 

SOUTH  of  the  Yellowstone  National  Park  in  Wy 
oming  is  the  rugged  Wind  Eiver  Range.    There 
hardy  hunters  of  the  horned  mountain  sheep  and 
the  lordly  elk  have  learned  to  turn  their  steps,  and  there 
those  who  would  have  the  even  more  satisfying  ex 
perience  of  becoming  familiar  with  the  hidden  recesses 
of  the  haunts  of  these  animals  turn  from  the  beaten 
track  and  revel  in  the  wild  glories  of  lofty  mountain 
and  lovely  valley. 

But  it  is  not  so  long  since  these  secluded  regions 
proved  all  but  unconquerable  to  the  adventurous  ex 
plorer  who  ventured  to  solve  their  problems.  In  1833 
Captain  Bonneville  came  this  way,  but  he  soon  learned 
the  folly  of  trying  to  conquer  the  Wind  River  Range. 
Before  long  he  was  lost  in  the  labyrinths  of  the  moun 
tains.  After  many  attempts  to  escape  he  resolved 
to  ascend  the  range  with  one  of  his  men.  Washington 
Irving  says  that ' l  after  much  toil  he  reached  the  summit 
of  a  lofty  cliff,  but  to  behold  gigantic  peaks  rising  all 
around,  and  towering  far  into  the  snowy  regions  of  the 
atmosphere.  He  soon  found  that  he  had  undertaken 
a  tremendous  task.  .  .  .  The  ascent  was  so  steep 
and  rugged  that  he  and  his  companions  were  frequently 
obliged  to  clamber  on  hands  and  knees  with  their  guns 
strung  on  their  backs.  Frequently  exhausted  with 
fatigue  and  dripping  with  perspiration,  they  threw 
themselves  upon  the  snow,  and  took  handfuls  of  it  to 
allay  their  parching  thirst.  At  one  place  they  even 
stripped  off  their  coats  and  hung  them  on  the  bushes, 

87 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

and  thus  lightly  clad  proceeded  to  scramble  over  those 
eternal  snows.  As  they  ascended  still  higher,  there 
were  cool  breezes  that  refreshed  and  braced  them,  and 
springing  with  new  ardor  to  their  task,  they  at  length 
attained  the  summit." 

Fed  by  the  melting  snows  of  the  mountains  that 
caused  Captain  Bonneville  and  his  companions  so  much 
tribulation,  the  Green  Eiver  begins,  not  far  from  the 
central  point  of  the  range,  the  marvelous  course  that 
leads  almost  directly  south  through  Wyoming  and  Utah 
to  its  junction  with  the  Grand.  Before  their  union 
both  rivers  pass  through  a  succession  of  awe-inspiring 
canyons.  After  they  form  the  Colorado  it  looks  as  if  the 
canyon-forming  propensities  of  both  streams  increase 
in  more  than  arithmetical  progression.  Canyons  be 
come  chasms,  and  the  grandeur  of  the  river 's  setting 
becomes  more  stupendous  as  the  course  toward  the 
southern  boundary  of  Utah  is  approached. 

Because  Green  Eiver  and  its  continuation,  the  Colo 
rado  Eiver,  are  far  from  being  highways  except  for  the 
most  venturesome,  it  may  seem  useless  to  say  much  of 
their  scenic  wonders.  Yet  they  are  the  most  remarkable 
features  of  a  state  which,  without  them,  would  still  have 
endless  treasures  to  offer  the  indefatigable  sightseer. 
There  are  those  who  have  dreamed  of  a  Denver,  Colo 
rado  Canyon  and  Pacific  Eailway  that  would  open  up 
the  mysteries  of  the  canyons.  What  a  wonderful  trip 
could  be  made  on  a  route  that,  after  following  the  Grand 
Eiver  by  the  Denver  and  Eio  Grande  Eailroad,  should 
cling  to  the  bank  of  that  stream  to  its  union  with  the 
Green,  and  then  along  the  Colorado  into  the  region  of 
Southern  Utah  which,  even  as  late  as  1868,  was  indicated 
on  the  map  of  the  War  Department  as  territory  abso- 

88 


I 


YELLOWSTONE   TO   GRAND   CANYON 

lutely  unknown,  and  which  is  yearly  yielding  fresh  sur 
prises  to  explorers  who  penetrate  more  carefully  into 
side  canyons,  plateaus  and  mountain  ridges ! 

Even  now  the  wonder  rivers  may  be  approached, 
with  greater  or  less  ease,  at  various  points.  The  Union 
Pacific  Eailroad  crosses  the  Green  at  Green  Eiver  Sta 
tion,  the  starting  point  of  the  very  few  expeditions  of 
exploration  of  the  river  to  its  mouth,  and  an  easy  portal 
for  the  hunter,  the  sportsman  or  the  tourist  who  is  in 
search  of  the  unusual.  Then  the  Denver  and  Eio  Grande 
Eailroad  crosses  the  stream  some  three  hundred  miles 
south  by  river,  at  Green  Eiver,  Utah,  a  town  in  the  midst 
of  what  was  once  a  desert,  though  now  it  is  a  garden. 
Between  the  two  Green  Eivers  are  other  points  of  ap 
proach,  notably  the  Dinosaur  National  Monument,  not 
far  from  the  point  where  the  river  reenters  Utah  after 
being  forced  into  Colorado  by  the  Uintah  Mountains. 

There  are  several  comparatively  easy  approaches  to 
Dinosaur  Monument.  The  Pike 's  Peak  Ocean  to  Ocean 
Highway  passes  through  Vernal,  Utah,  and  from  Vernal 
there  is  a  good  auto  road  to  the  government  reservation. 
Those  who  travel  by  train  can  make  stage  connection 
for  Vernal  from  Helper,  Utah,  or  railroad  and  stage 
connection  from  Mack,  Colorado,  both  stations  on  the 
Denver  and  Eio  Grande  Eailroad. 

Eighty  acres  have  been  set  apart  at  Dinosaur 
National  Monument,  including  Dinosaur  Peak.  Em 
bedded  in  the  rocks  of  the  mountain  are  countless  bones 
of  the  gigantic  dinosaur,  of  which  many  have  been 
removed  by  scientists  on  the  staff  of  the  Carnegie 
Museum  at  Pittsburgh.  As  one  result  of  their  labors 
there  is  at  the  Museum  a  restored  skeleton  one  hundred 
feet  long  and  twenty  feet  high.  It  is  worth  the  ride  from 
the  railroad  to  see  the  absorbingly  interesting  process 

89 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

of  blasting  these  priceless  relics  from  the  stone  in  which 
they  have  been  embedded,  since  that  age  long  gone  when 
in  the  language  of  a  government  bulletin,  "many  dino 
saurs  and  other  prehistoric  animals  must  have  floated 
down  some  ancient  river,  from  a  source  unknown,  and 
become  embedded  in  a  sand  bar;  there  they  lay  for 
countless  years  until  they  were  covered  to  a  great  depth 
by  the  sand.  Then  came  a  seismic  upheaval  which  forced 
the  sand  bed  among  the  mountain  tops. ' ' 

Those  who  push  on  a  few  difficult  miles  farther  east 
will  come  to  Lodore  Canyon  in  Green  Eiver,  so  named 
by  the  first  explorer,  Major  J.  W.  Powell,  in  1869,  be 
cause  its  waters,  come 

"Turning  and  twisting, 
Around  and  around 
"With  endless  rebound ! 
Smiting  and  fighting, 
A  sight  to  delight  in ; 
Confounding,  astounding. 
Dizzying  and  deafening  the  ear  with  its  sound. " 

For  twenty  miles  Lodore  is  a  bewildering  series  of 
marvels : 

"It  starts  abruptly  at  what  we  have  called  the  Gate 
of  Lodore,  with  walls  nearly  2000  feet  high,  and  they 
are  never  lower  than  this  until  we  reach  the  Alcove 
Brook,  about  three  miles  above  the  foot,"  was  the  de 
scription  Major  Pow^ell  gave  of  the  canyon.  "They 
are  very  irregular,  standing  in  vertical  or  overhanging 
cliffs  in  places,  terraced  in  others,  or  receding  in  steep 
slopes,  and  are  broken  by  many  side  gulches  and  can 
yons.  The  highest  point  on  the  wall  is  at  Dunn's  Cliff, 
near  Triplet  Falls,  where  the  rocks  reach  an  altitude 
of  2700  feet,  and  the  peaks  a  little  way  back  rise  nearly 
one  thousand  feet  higher.  Yellow  pines,  nut  pines,  firs, 
and  cedars  stand  in  extensive  forests  on  the  Uintah 

90 


YELLOWSTONE  TO   GRAND   CANYON 

Mountains,  and,  clinging  to  the  rocks  and  growing  in  the 
crevices,  come  down  the  walls  to  the  water's  edge  from 
Flaming  Gorge  to  Echo  Park.  The  red  sandstones  are 
lichened  over ;  delicate  mosses  grow  in  the  moist  places 
and  ferns  festoon  the  walls. ' ' 

Echo  Cliff  marks  the  end  of  Lodore.  Frederick  S. 
Dellenbaugh,  who  went  through  Lodore  in  1871,  said 
that  the  name  was  given  to  the  park-like  opening  "  be 
cause  from  the  smooth  bare  cliff  directly  opposite  our 
landing  a  distinct  echo  of  ten  words  was  returned  to 
the  speaker. " 

In  the  interval  before  the  next  canyon  to  the  south 
are  two  towns,  Jensen,  surrounded  by  fruitful  lands, 
and  Ouray,  where  Indians  flock  for  supplies.  Not  far 
from  Jensen  begins  Desolation  Canyon,  ninety-seven 
miles  long,  where  Major  Powell  had  his  hands  full  giv 
ing  names  to  formations,  pinnacles,  cliffs  and  other  ob 
jects  of  which  he  was  the  discoverer.  The  Land  of  the 
Standing  Eocks  and  the  Butte  of  the  Cross  were  two  of 
his  christenings  that  persist  to  this  day. 

Canyon  follows  canyon.  The  walls  become  more 
rugged,  the  country  along  the  river  more  desolate. 
Tributaries  enter  through  canyons  of  their  own,  among 
them  being  the  White  Canyon,  where  is  located  the 
Natural  Bridge  National  Monument,  on  the  San  Juan 
Eiver,  to  the  north  of  the  Eainbow  Bridge  National 
Monument.  Both  of  these  monuments  may  be  ap 
proached  most  easily  from  Mesa  Verde  National  Park, 
Colorado,  as  already  described.  Between  them  is  a 
trail  that  affords  an  opportunity  one  hundred  and  sixty 
miles  long  to  wander  among  the  mysteries  of  a  land 
speaking  eloquently  of  the  past ;  it  becomes  difficult  to 
realize  that  one  is  only  a  little  distance  from  all  the 
refinements  of  civilization. 


CHAPTER  IX 
FROM  THE  CITY  OF  THE  SAINTS  TO  ZION  CANYON 

"  "^  T^OU  won't  like  the  trip  from  Salt  Lake  to 

j     Lund,"  a  fellow-passenger  said,  as  he  noted 

-**    the  destination  marked  on  the  author's  ticket. 

"It  is  hot  and  dusty  and  monotonous.    You'll  be  glad 

when  you  get  there ;  and  you  '11  never  want  to  go  again. ' ' 

He  was  mistaken.  Most  of  the  way  there  was  little 
or  no  dust.  In  spite  of  the  fact  that  another  passenger 
gave  kindly  warning  that  the  umbrella  which  had  been 
a  part  of  the  author's  equipment  thus  far  would  not 
be  needed  in  the  south  country,  the  rain  soon  began  to 
fall  and  for  three  days  he  successfully  dodged  copious 
showers  that  fell  all  about  him.  Sometimes  there  were 
patches  where  no  rain  had  fallen  for  some  time,  but 
such  minor  matters  as  heat  and  dust  are  forgotten  by 
those  who  rejoice  in  the  comradeship  of  mountains,  the 
friendship  of  meadows,  and  the  warm  chumminess 
of  the  desert.  How  could  such  a  combination  be 
called  monotonous  ? 

Down  through  the  valley  of  the  Jordan  leads  the 
inviting  Arrowhead  Trail,  as  well  as  the  Los  Angeles 
and  Salt  Lake  Kailroad,  the  favorite  system  of  the  Los 
Angeles  photoplay  companies  because  it  points  the  way 
so  quickly  to  scenes  of  marvel  and  surprise,  and  because 
its  officials  are  singularly  accommodating  in  providing 
facilities  for  photographing  runaway  cars,  fleeing 
train  robbers  and  agile  telegraph  operators  with 
coquettish  curls. 

There  are  no  valleys  like  the  Jordan  Valley  and  its 

92 


CITY   OF  THE  SAINTS  TO  ZION   CANYON 

successors  to  the  south.  On  either  side  are  peaks  snow 
capped  until  far  into  the  summer.  From  these  sweep 
down  refreshing  breezes  to  temper  the  heat,  and  life- 
giving  waters  to  fill  the  canals  that  make  the  region  a 
bower  of  beauty  and  a  garden  of  surpassing  fertility. 

These  lofty  mountains,  whose  rugged,  serrated  sum 
mits  are  so  clearly  outlined  against  the  deep  blue  of  the 
Utah  sky,  look  down  benignantly  on  inviting  orchards, 
on  prosperous  looking  farms,  and  on  clustering  villages 
where  Mormon  temple  and  modern  school  divide  archi 
tectural  honors. 

At  intervals  that  become  more  frequent  as  the  train 
moves  southward  appears  land  that  needs  only  water 
to  make  it  a  part  of  the  surrounding  garden.  Here 
and  there  the  lower  summits  crowd  close  and  the  eye 
turns  across  the  valley  to  the  mountains  on  the  west, 
resting  with  delight  on  the  marvelous  rows  of  Lombardy 
poplars  that  make  the  plain  seem  like  the  plaything 
of  some  giant  who  has  placed  his  arbors  as  a  child  builds 
with  his  blocks. 

But  the  closing  in  of  the  mountains  is  only  a  threat. 
Once  again  the  valley  spreads  out  on  either  hand,  and 
the  precious  waters  flow  through  the  ditches  to  the  wait 
ing  fields,  some  of  these  the  property  of  hardy  men 
who  live  in  log  cabins  of  the  pioneers ;  others  yielding 
their  fruits  to  those  whose  prosperity  is  marked  by 
cosier  farmhouses,  or,  it  may  be,  by  homes  in  centers 
like  Lehi,  American  Fork,  or  Provo.  These  towns  in 
Utah  Valley  have  the  double  advantage  of  mountains 
on  one  side  and  Utah  Lake  on  the  other — a  lake  whose 
size  and  beauty  would  command  more  attention  but  for 
the  larger  and  more  spectacular  Great  Salt  Lake  to 
the  north. 

93 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

Even  after  the  first  fertile  valleys  end  and  the  desert 
begins  there  is  more  of  life  to  follow.  For,  as  the  rail 
road  and  the  highway  cross  a  barren  stretch  where  the 
soil  is  red  and  the  slopes  are  forbidding,  Sevier  Eiver 
meanders  near  by  and  prepares  the  traveler  for  the 
sight  of  the  new  beet-sugar  country  around  Delta  and 
Oasis  and  Black  Eock.  Here  artesian  wells  go  into 
partnership  with  the  river,  fitting  the  ground  for  the 
production  of  sugar  beets  t  i  that  weigh  as  much  as  nine 
pounds  each,"  according  to  the  boast  of  one  hopeful 
homesteader  whose  lands  just  now  are  without  the 
watered  area,  though  he  is  looking  forward  eagerly  to 
the  time  "when  the  government  will  help  us  out  as  it 
has  helped  others."  Then  he  added,  "The  day  will 
come  when  the  country  beyond  the  Beaver  Mountains, 
with  Sevier  Lake  in  its  midst,  will  be  as  rich  as  the 
Utah  Valley." 

Below  the  new  beet-sugar  country,  in  the  Escalante 
Desert,  is  Lund,  the  railroad  gateway  to  Zion  Canyon, 
one  of  the  youngest — and  destined  to  be  one  of  the  most 
popular — of  all  the  National  Parks.  One  hundred 
and  five  miles  of  stage  road  is  the  connecting  link.  A 
single  automobile  is  usually  able  to  carry  all  applicants 
for  transportation  to  this  hidden  marvel  in  the  moun 
tains  of  Washington  County,  east  of  the  Dixie  National 
Forest,  and  perhaps  one  hundred  delightful  miles  above 
the  northern  border  of  the  Grand  Canyon,  of  which  it 
is  really  the  first  cousin.  And  there  are  not  lacking 
those  who  say  they  get  more  real  joy  from  the  little 
cousin  than  from  its  majestic  relative. 

Some  day  there  will  be  a  railroad  to  Cedar  City, 
or  even  to  Zion  itself.  But  those  who  wait  until  then 
to  visit  the  canyon  will  lose  a  rare  treat ;  it  is  difficult 

94 


CITY  OF  THE  SAINTS  TO  ZION  CANYON 

to  imagine  a  more  varied  and  pleasing  ride  of  like 
distance.  For  the  author  this  pleasure  was  intensified. 
Dependable  arrangements  have  been  made  for  the 
through  transportation  of  passengers,  but  in  conse 
quence  of  an  error  of  his  own  he  was  dependent  on  a 
succession  of  stages,  the  driver  of  a  load  of  alfalfa,  and 
the  car  of  a  genial  driller  who  is  helping  to  put  to  the 
test  the  insistent  belief  that  this  favored  district  is  as 
rich  in  oil  as  it  is  in  mountains  of  the  finest  iron  ore 
and  in  other  varied  minerals.  "  Watch  us  when  the 
railroad  comes,"  the  residents  say. 

The  iron  deposits  are  within  Iron  Springs  Gap, 
where  is  a  famous  spring  that  has  meant  life  to  many  a 
desert  traveler.  ' l  There  are  fifteen  miles  of  iron  from 
north  to  south,  and  the  field  is  eight  miles  wide,  the 
largest  known  undeveloped  deposit  in  the  world, "  the 
claim  is  made  locally. 

To-day  sheep  graze  by  tens  of  thousands  near  these 
iron  mountains.  In  fact,  the  entire  country  is  a  favorite 
with  the  sheep  raisers,  and,  in  the  season,  huge  trucks, 
wool-laden,  cross  the  mountains  and  the  desert  to  Lund. 
The  large  ranch  near  the  Gap  contains  ten  thousand 
acres ;  for  this,  including  water  rights,  the  proprietor 
paid  thirty  thousand  dollars. 

In  rapid  succession  the  road  leads  among  mountains 
and  past  ravines  that  might  almost  be  called  canyons, 
through  Mormon  villages,  among*  the  famous  vineyards 
of  Toquerville,  along  and  across  the  great  Hurricane 
Fault  stretching  away  some  two  hundred  miles,  which 
has  long  been  to  the  geologist  a  favorite  subject  for 
speculation.  A  two-hour  wait  at  La  Yerkin  Forks  for 
a  promised  automobile  that  never  came  gave  opportu 
nity  for  a  long  study  of  a  landscape  of  infinite  variety. 

95 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

Bare  desert,  where  jack  rabbits  leaped  and  quail  darted 
across  the  road,  and  where  were  the  ravishing  cactus 
blooms,  some  white,  some  yellow,  but  most  of  them  of 
a  strangely  beautiful  red;  the  two  clustering  villages 
on  the  Virgin  Eiver,  La  Verkin  and  Hurricane,  with 
watered  fields  and  orchards  of  vivid  green ;  above  Hur 
ricane  the  black  rocks  that  mark  the  location  of  Hot 
Sulphur  Springs,  the  favored  resort  of  the  young  people 
of  the  district ;  far  to  the  south  the  uplands  whose  dark 
colors  are  emphasized  by  the  strange  Fort  Pierce  Sands, 
square  miles  of  these,  blood-red,  as  distinctly  set  off 
from  the  surroundings  as  is  a  field  of  wheat  from 
the  roadside. 

Then  came  the  six-mile  ride  on  the  load  of  alfalfa, 
much  of  it  up,  up,  still  up  the  slope  above  the  valley  on 
whose  edge  is  La  Verkin  by  the  Virgin.  It  was  not 
easy  to  accept  the  cordial  invitation  of  the  homesteader 
who  sat  atop  the  hay — it  seemed  too  bad  to  add  to  his 
load;  but  it  was  not  possible  to  decline.  And  what  a 
view  was  spread  out  as  the  slow-moving  wagon  grad 
ually  climbed  toward  Virgin!  No  automobile  could 
move  slowly  enough  to  give  to  its  passengers  the  joy 
of  that  half  hour  of  hill  climbing. 

Hospitality  is  a  characteristic  of  the  homesteaders 
and  the  dwellers-  in  the  villages  of  Utah.  ; '  I  may  not 
have  much,  but  what  I  have  is  yours, ' '  one  of  them  said. 
"May  I  use  your  telephone?"  the  query  was  put  at  one 
door.  "You  bet!"  was  the  quick  reply.  "May  I  ask 
for  a  drink  of  water  1' '  brought  the  same  smiling  answer, 
and  "You  bet!"  was  the  response  to  the  plea  of  a 
belated  traveler  to  be  kept  for  the  night  in  a  vil 
lage  home. 

96 


ZION    CANYOX,    UTAH.       FROM    HICKS'    POINT 


CITY   OF   THE   SAINTS  TO   ZION   CANYON 

A  most  painstaking  honesty  is  another  characteristic 
of  the  people.  When  he  was  building  the  camp  in  the 
Canyon,  Mr.  W.  W.  Wylie — whose  name  is  well  known 
to  tourists  by  reason  of  his  long  connection  with  the 
Wylie-Way  Camp  of  Yellowstone  Park — had  a  most 
refreshing  experience  of  this.  A  carpenter  who  had 
been  working  for  him  presented  a  bill  that  was  less  than 
had  been  expected.  Mr.  "Wylie  asked  for  an  explanation. 
"Well,  there  were  two  days  when  I  did  not  work  full 
time, ' '  was  the  reply.  ' '  One  day  I  got  to  talking  with 
you,  and  before  I  knew  it  two  hours  were  gone.  Then 
another  day  a  man  came  up  to  see  me,  and  I  had  to  take 
out  an  hour  for  the  visit. ' ' 

The  last  stage  of  the  ride  to  Zion,  from  Virgin  vil 
lage,  rapidly  unfolds  a  panorama  for  which  descriptions 
that  in  advance  seemed  fulsome  and  extravagant  are 
seen  to  be  inadequate.  There  is  the  stream,  wandering 
here  and  there  in  the  broad  valley ;  the  strangely-shaped, 
brightly-colored  mountains  on  the  right  which  change 
like  living  creatures  at  every  turn ;  the  towering  peaks 
and  ridges  on  the  left,  and  above  them  all  the  inacces 
sible  summit  of  Steamboat  Mountain  with  a  long,  mesa- 
like  hood  rising  above  the  precipice.  A  visitor  to  Zion 
in  the  summer  of  1918,  learning  that  this  mountain  had 
never  been  conquered,  declared  that  no  mountain  could 
vanquish  him.  He  was  a  former  mountain  climber ;  but 
he  was  at  length  compelled  to  own  his  defeat. 

Near  Springdale,  the  last  of  the  old  Mormon  villages 
passed  through  on  the  way  to  the  Canyon,  is  the  real 
beginning  of  Zion  National  Park.  The  valley  narrows, 
and  the  formations  become  more  startling  in  contour, 
more  marvelous  in  coloring.  To  the  left  leads  the 
tributary  Parunoweap  Canyon,  where  cliff  dwellings 

7  97 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

are  accessible.  But  the  chief  lure  is  onward  to  the  main 
valley  which  the  Indians  called  Mukuntuweap,  though 
when  Brigham  Young  opened  the  way  for  the  early 
Mormons  to  go  to  this  secure  hiding-place  in  the  moun 
tains  he  called  it  Little  Zion — its  majestic  rocks,  its 
massive  walls,  its  sublime  summits  made  it  seem  like 
a  little  heaven.  The  pioneers  made  their  homes  in  the 
canyon,  and  they  tilled  fields  along  the  borders  of  the 
Bio  Virgin.  They  constructed  their  canals  for  irrigat 
ing  the  land,  and  they  lived  happily  there  until  the 
decreasing  vegetation  at  the  headwaters  of  the  stream 
caused  floods  that  washed  away  much  of  the  fertile 
ground.  Then  they  began  to  move  down  to  the  broader 
valley.  The  fame  of  this  canyon  as  a  pleasure  resort 
spread,  and  in  1917  it  was  made  a  National  Monument. 
In  1919  it  became  a  National  Park. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  W.  W.  Wylie  are  the  pioneers  who  are 
doing  for  this  crowning  glory  of  Utah  what  they  did  for 
the  Yellowstone  Park.  In  1917  they  opened  their  com 
fortable  camp  and  began  to  welcome  the  fortunate 
people  who  were  able  to  come  to  this  out-of-the-way 
spot.  An  examination  of  the  camp  register  for  1917 
shows  that  about  three  hundred  visitors  stopped  here ; 
most  of  these  were  from  Utah  and  California,  though 
some  came  from  the  East.  In  1918,  when  war  condi 
tions  called  for  a  curtailment  of  vacation  travel,  per 
haps  one  hundred,  in  all,  registered,  and  most  of  these 
lived  near  by.  In  1919,  with  the  lifting  of  travel  restric 
tions  and  with  ample  provision  for  the  comfort  of  the 
visitors  both  on  the  way  to  the  canyon  and  within  its 
borders,  the  tide  of  tourist  travel  increased.  The  day 
must  come  soon  when  thousands  instead  of  scores  will 
respond  to  the  lure  of  Zion  and  will  return  home  with 

98 


CITY  OF  THE  SAINTS  TO  ZION  CANYON 

tales  that  will  lead  other  thousands  to  seek  this  valley 
of  marvels.  For,  while  these  marvels  cannot  well  be 
compared  with  those  of  the  Grand  Canyon,  the  Yosem- 
ite,  or  the  Yellowstone,  they  are  finding  enthusiastic 
friends  who  say  that  if  they  were  given  a  choice  of 
a  second  visit  to  any  of  these  other  resorts,  or  a  return 
to  Zion,  they  would  hasten  Zion-wrard. 

In  Utah  itself  the  Canyon  was  all  but  unknown  for 
many  years.  Even  many  of  those  who  lived  near  by  did 
not  think  that  it  amounted  to  anything.  Mr.  Wylie  tells 
of  a  man  who  has  spent  his  fifty  years  within  a  few  miles 
of  its  borders.  ' '  Somehow  I  didn't  look  at  these  things 
you  talk  so  much  about,"  he  said,  "but  now  that  you 
have  called  my  attention  to  them  I  think  they  are  kind 
of  worth  while  after  all."  So  a  Mormon  bishop  at 
Springdale  recently  said  that  he  had  always  thought 
of  the  mountains  and  rocks  as  barriers,  nuisances  and 
hindrances.  "Now  I  see  that  there  is  something  more 
to  them, ' '  he  owns. 

It  is  fortunate  that  visitors  are  brought  to  Zion 
in  the  evening,  when  they  are  too  weary  to  wander 
about.  The  vision  aiforded  by  the  ride  of  a  few  miles 
from  the  gateway  is  enough  for  the  first  evening.  Then 
comes  the  night  in  a  comfortable  bed,  the  lullaby  being 
the  sound  of  the  flowing  waters  of  the  Virgin  and  the 
dropping  of  the  blossoms  from  the  clustering  trees 
about  the  camp.  In  the  morning  early  the  pleasure 
ground  in  which  one  walks  with  reverent  heart  is  ready 
to  give  its  first  and  most  lasting  impression.  If  the 
day  is  bright — and  it  usually  is — the  sunlight  is  playing 
on  the  face  of  the  western  wall ;  the  sun  itself  does  not 
appear  until  from  ten  to  eleven.  All  day,  however,  the 
canyon  is  light,  for  in  the  late  afternoon  the  eastern 

99 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

wall  reflects  the  sun's  rays,  and  in  June  and  July  a 
newspaper  can  be  read  near  the  Virgin's  brink,  even 
as  late  as  nine  o'clock.  If,  however,  the  rain  is  falling, 
water  will  be  pouring  over  the  face  of  the  precipices, 
making  cascades  that  surprise  at  every  turn. 

The  camp  is  placed  in  one  of  the  broadest  parts  of 
the  valley,  where  it  is  possibly  a  little  more  than  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  wall  to  wall.  These  walls  are 
one  at  the  base,  but  are  cleft  higher  up.  The  sky  line 
is  broken  in  a  pleasing  manner.  The  form  of  the  cliffs 
is  varied,  and  the  glowing  coloring  changes  from  dawn 
to  dusk. 

From  the  camp  meadow  the  road  is  practicable  for 
automobiles  for  a  short  distance  only,  but  some  day 
soon  the  way  will  be  open  for  them  five  miles  farther, 
to  the  point  where  the  walls  come  so  close  together  that 
there  is  no  passage  except  for  those  who  take  to  the 
water.  In  the  meantime  visitors  have  the  choice  of 
relying  on  their  feet  or  of  taking  the  saddle  horses  pro 
vided.  The  more  primitive  method  of  transportation 
is  much  more  satisfactory  than  any  automobile  can  be, 
for  the  pace  of  the  animal  is  just  slow  enough  to  afford 
the  necessary  leisure  to  look  and  look  and  look  again. 
On  the  open  road  five  miles  may  be  made  on  horseback 
well  within  an  hour;  but  in  the  canyon  who  wants  to 
travel  at  such  a  rapid  rate  I  The  wise  visitor  is  content 
with  a  mile  or  two  an  hour  as  he  wanders  along  the  trail, 
fords  the  Virgin  at  perhaps  a  score  of  easy  crossings, 
with  the  water  seldom  above  the  horse's  knees,  or 
alights  to  spend  an  hour  in  one  of  the  amphitheatres 
where  the  canyon  twists  and  the  mighty  walls  look  down 
everywhere — except  at  one  point,  hidden  so  well  that  the 
visitor  feels  at  first  there  can  be  no  outlet. 
100 


CITY  OF  THE  SAINTS  TO  ZION   CANYON 

In  one  of  these  amphitheatres  is  Weeping  Rock,  an 
overhanging  precipice  from  which  are  always  dripping 
waters  that  force  their  way  through  from  the  bottom  of 
a  lake  in  the  summit  of  the  precipice,  two  thousand  feet 
above.  In  time  of  flood  the  lake  seeks  an  outlet  over  a 
natural  dam,  near  the  verge  of  the  cliff,  and  pours  over 
the  rock  to  the  valley  below  in  a  cascade  of  stupen 
dous  proportions. 

A  little  farther  on  is  another  amphitheatre,  called 
the  Temple  of  Sinawawa.  Here,  so  tradition  runs,  the 
Indians  used  to  gather — in  the  daytime,  that  is;  they 
were  afraid  to  be  found  by  night  in  this  temple  of  the 
god  whose  stone  image  stands  out  close  to  one  of 
the  walls. 

It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  parsimony  which  so  far 
has  characterized  the  handing  out  of  names  to  the  more 
prominent  formations  in  the  canyon  will  continue. 
A  few  names  in  such  a  place  are  pleasing ;  but  let  Zion 
Canyon  be  spared  the  fantastic  nomenclature  that 
gives  to  insignificant  features  high-sounding  titles  and 
to  some  of  the  most  glorious  marks  of  God's  majestic 
handiwork  imaginary  descriptions  that  would  make  the 
sublime  ridiculous. 

Among  the  few  names  that  have  been  given  is  The 
Great  White  Throne.  Possibly  the  reader  may  object 
to  that  name,  but  when  he  views  this  outstanding  for 
mation,  which  rises  nearly  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
valley — itself  some  forty-five  hundred  feet  high — he 
will  be  apt  to  feel  that  no  other  name  would  fit  this  stu 
pendous  white  monolith  which  commands  the  canyon  for 
miles.  The  twists  and  turns  of  the  water-shaped,  wind- 
worn  walls  afford  many  points  of  vantage  from  which 
this  inspiring  precipice  can  be  seen,  and  it  is  difficult 

101 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

to  choose  which  is  best;  they  are  all  so  different,  and 
they  are  all  so  tremendously  effective. 

When  one  hears  the  name  "Angels'  Landing,"  he 
is  apt  to  think  the  reference  is  to  a  landing  place  on 
the  river's  brink.  But  no !  the  brink  referred  to  is  the 
summit  of  a  lofty,  many-colored  formation  "where  no 
one  could  make  a  landing  unless  he  had  angels'  wings. " 

The  walls  are  inaccessible  at  most  points,  but  a 
daring  frontiersman  has  found  his  way  to  the  summit 
of  one  of  the  most  inspiring  rocks,  twenty-seven  hun 
dred  feet  high,  and  is  marketing  for  the  valley  and  the 
villages  below  the  rich  timbers  of  the  heights.  It  would 
be  a  long  and  almost  impossible  haul  from  the  top 
around  to  the  valley,  so  wire  cables  with  a  frail  looking 
car  have  been  stretched  from  the  summit  to  the  floor 
of  the  canyon.  By  means  of  the  car  timber  is  lowered, 
a  few  planks  at  a  time,  and  supplies  are  raised  to  the 
workmen.  Until  several  years  ago  venturesome  visitors 
made  the  ascent  by  wire,  but  the  trip  is  so  dangerous 
that  it  has  been  forbidden. 

Beyond  Cable  Mountain  the  winding  pathway  leads 
between  the  precipices  until  the  walls  are  only  about 
a  hundred  feet  apart.  Half  a  mile  farther  on  it  is  pos 
sible  to  touch  both  walls  with  the  outstretched  hands. 
And  two  thousand  feet  above  is  the  narrow  strip  of 
blue  sky! 

The  difficulty  of  approaching  this  awful  chasm  did 
not  deter  one  company  of  young  men  who,  in  the  summer 
of  1917,  made  their  way  out  from  Cedar  City  over  the 
rugged  mountains,  on  foot,  to  a  spot  where  they  could 
enter  the  Virgin,  about  seventeen  miles  above  Wylie 
Camp.  From  there  they  waded  or  swam  to  the  present 
limit  of  horseback  exploration.  "We  were  in  the  water 
102 


THE  GREAT  WHITE  THRONE,  ZION  CANYON,  UTAH 


THE  BREAKS  OF  CEDAR  CANTON,  UTAH 


IN  ZION  CANYON,  UTAH 


CITY  OF  THE  SAINTS  TO  ZION   CANYON 

nine  hours, ' '  one  of  the  men  said  to  the  author.  ' '  But 
it  was  worth  it.  I  want  to  make  that  trip  again. ' ' 

Even  if  a  visitor  has  been  privileged  to  spend  a 
week  in  exploring  the  fastnesses  of  Zion  Canyon  and 
sitting  under  the  spell  of  its  mysteries,  he  is  reluctant 
to  leave.  Yet  when  he  is  compelled  to  put  the  canyon 
behind  him  there  are  more  joys  before  him.  There 
is  the  ride  back  to  Lund,  and  it  is  startling  what  a 
wonderfully  different  aspect  a  mountainous  country 
presents  when  it  is  viewed  from  a  new  angle !  Hurri 
cane  Fault  it  there,  but  it  seems  like  a  stranger; 
canyons  and  villages,  gardens  and  orchards,  moun 
tains  and  deserts,  have  all  been  seen  before.  But  who 
would  believe  it ! 

And  Zion  Canyon  is  but  one  of  the  superb  offerings 
of  this  mysterious' region  of  Southwestern  Utah,  where 
every  year  fresh  discoveries  are  made  by  men  who  can 
not  resist  the  lure  of  the  open.  E.  D.  Adams,  a  Cedar 
City  photographer,  recently  penetrated  to  the  recesses 
of  Cedar  Canyon  where  not  even  a  pack-horse  can 
secure  a  footing,  and  found  a  great  natural  bridge  that 
has  since  been  seen  by  a  number  of  others.  With  a 
companion  he  explored  the  Breaks  of  the  Cedar  Canyon, 
visiting  two  of  the  score  or  more  side  canyons  which 
extend  in  a  jagged  semicircle  for  a  distance  of  twelve 
miles.  The  editor  of  the  Iron  County  Record  declares 
that  a  view  of  the  Breaks  from  the  rim  of  the  basin 
is  one  of  the  most  fascinating  sights  to  be  found  any 
where.  "  Because  of  the  gorgeous  and  varied  coloring, 
the  fantastic,  fairy-like  pinnacles,  the  spires,  and  other 
formations,  it  has  the  appearance  of  an  enchanted  coun 
try  that  has  been  made  to  slumber  through  the  centu- 

103 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

ries,  and,  like  the  ashes  on  the  mantle  of  a  gas  lamp, 
needs  only  a  breath  of  wind  to  make  it  vanish 
into  space." 

Soon  there  will  probably  be  a  well-built  highway  up 
Cedar  Canyon  to  the  country  of  the  Breaks.  For  Cedar 
City  is  on  the  route  from  Northern  Utah  to  Los  Angeles, 
which  will  connect  with  a  practicable  road  to  the  Grand 
Canyon  and  on  to  the  Monumental  Valley  of  San  Juan 
County,  with  its  great  natural  bridges,  and  even  to  the 
Mesa  Verde  National  Park  in  Colorado. 


CHAPTER  X 

GOD'S  AUTOGRAPH  IN  STONE 
THE  GRAND  CANYON  OF  THE  COLORADO 

WHEN  one  speaks  of  a  task  that  is  all  but  im 
possible,  lie  is  apt  to  say  something  about 
making  bricks  without  straw,  or  the  Labors  of 
Hercules,  or  the  Stone  of  Sisyphus,  or  reading  the  rid 
dle  of  the  Sphinx.    But  one  who  has  seen  the  Grand 
Canyon  of  the  Colorado  has  no  more  use  for  such  fig 
ures.    Should  it  be  desired  to  set  a  task  that  cannot  be 
performed,  it  would  be  sufficient  to  say,  "  Write  a  de 
scription  of  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado. " 

Many  times  the  writer  has  thought  he  would  try 
to  tell  what  he  saw  when  first  he  stood  on  the  brink 
of  the  great  chasm  cut  in  the  Arizona  Plateau  by  the 
waters  of  the  Colorado,  but  at  each  attempt  his  hand  has 
been  stayed.  IE.  memory  he  looks  once  more  on  the 
awe-inspiring  vision  that  was  spread  before  him  one 
never-to-be-forgotten  day  in  May,  and  again,  as  then, 
the  tears  are  not  far  away,  the  voice  will  not  do  his 
bidding.  He  can  only  think,  ' l  God !  ' '  When  speech  is 
possible,  all  he  can  say  is  "God!" 

Some  one  has  called  the  Grand  Canyon  "God's 
autograph  in  stone."  The  visitor  cannot  appreciate 
the  words  until  he  gazes  in  amazement  and  awe  at  the 
unmatched  spectacle  that  silently  waits  for  the  millions 
who  have  never  dreamed  that  their  own  land  contains 
the  greatest  natural  wonder  of  the  world. 

Would  you  understand  why  the  only  normal  person 
who  can  write  about  the  Grand  Canyon  without  a  quick- 

105 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

ening  of  the  pulse  and  a  despairing  feeling  that  he  had 
better  turn  to  some  other  subject  is  the  person  who  has 
never  stood  on  its  rim  or  followed  the  tortuous  trail 
down  the  precipice  to  the  river 's  brink  I  Go  to  the 
Grand  Canyon!  Would  you  draw  nearer  to  God  than 
ocean  or  lake  or  mountain  has  drawn  you?  Go  to  the 
Grand  Canyon !  Would  you  know  more  of  the  almighty 
power  of  Him  who  holds  you  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand  1 
Go  to  the  Grand  Canyon !  Would  you  have  made  more 
real  to  you  the  stupendous  sentence,  ' i  In  the  beginning 
God  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth "  f  Go  to  the 
Grand  Canyon !  The  visit  will  strengthen  faith,  inspire 
with  new  zeal,  and  bring  fresh  meaning  to  life. 

Think  of  passing  in  a  moment  from  a  level  plateau 
where  there  is  nothing  especially  striking  in  the  land 
scape  to  a  chasm  more  than  a  mile  deep  and  thirteen 
miles  to  the  opposite  rim ;  the  distance  does  not  seem  so 
great,  but  the  air  is  rare  and  clear,  and  what  seems  near 
is  often  far  away. 

Think  of  this  chasm  filled  with  mountain  peaks,  not 
one  of  which  reaches  above  the  level  of  the  feet.  Think 
of  these  mountains  carved  in  shapes  fantastic,  weird, 
grotesque,  magnificent. 

Think  not  of  somber-hued,  rocky  slopes  and  preci 
pices,  but  of  color  schemes  that  are  the  delight  and  the 
despair  of  the  artist — every  shade  of  red  and  violet 
combined  and  contrasted  until  the  canyon  looks  like  a 
vast  palette.  Think  of  gazing  on  rocks  and  pinnacles 
and  turrets  that  seem,  to  use  the  expression  of  one 
traveler,  as  if  a  million  sunsets  had  been  shattered 
there.  Think  of  gazing  on  a  thousand  square  miles 
of  such  wonders  without  moving  to  a  fresh  point 
of  vantage. 

106 


GOD'S  AUTOGRAPH  IN  STONE 

And  when  at  length  the  awed  observer  stands  and 
looks  into  the  depths,  and  across  to  the  farther  wall, 
and  picks  out  one  by  one  the  ten  thousand  castles  and 
palaces  and  cathedrals  between,  he  will  be  apt  to  think : 
' '  I  did  not  expect  anything  like  this.  How  could  anyone 
ever  think  of  describing  it  ? ' '  He  may  feel  like  echoing 
the  words  of  a  visitor  who  came  carelessly,  but  stood 
spellbound  at  the  edge  of  the  abyss,  and  cried,  "My 
God,  there  it  is!"  or  he  may  look  on  in  silence  while 
the  tears  come  unbidden,  tears  of  which  he  will  not  be 
ashamed ;  he  may  feel  with  John  Muir  that ' '  the  prudent 
keep  silence  at  this  spectacle ;"  but  whatever  he  says 
or  does  not  say,  he  will  know  that  God  has  given  him  a 
glimpse  of  His  glory,  and  he  will  feel  that  he  has  just 
begun  to  live. 

It  matters  little  where  one  takes  his  stand.  He  may 
pause  in  front  of  the  palatial  hotel  which  the  railroad 
has  pitched  on  the  brink,  at  the  entrance  of  the  branch 
line  from  Williams,  Arizona,  or  he  may  go  along  the 
rim  to  the  right  or  to  the  left ;  everywhere  will  be  the 
vision  glorious. 

It  matters  not  what  the  time  of  day  or  night,  or  what 
the  state  of  the  weather ;  the  scene  spread  will  be  differ 
ent,  but  it  will  always  be  so  abundantly  worth  while  that 
the  beholder  will  thenceforth  have  new  standards  of 
beauty  and  color  and  glory. 

When  the  sun  shines  in  a  cloudless  sky,  the  monu 
mental  structures  in  the  canyon  dazzle  and  bewilder,  and 
one  is  glad  to  look  at  a  point  where  the  shadow  of  some 
majestic  mountain  rests  the  eye.  When  clouds  float  in 
the  sky,  the  rapid  play  of  light  and  shade  on  peaks  and 
walls  and  bowlder-strewn  slopes  fills  one  with  delight. 

In  time  of  storm,  when  the  rain  falls  in  torrents,  the 

107 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

canyon  seems  like  a  new  world.  In  the  early  morning, 
before  the  mists  have  risen  from  the  river  and  the 
heights  above,  it  is  even  more  like  a  fairyland  than  in 
the  daytime. 

Many  prefer  to  gaze  when  the  moon  only  half  defines 
the  depths,  and  it  seems  that  it  is  but  a  short  distance 
to  the  river  below,  or  the  farther  wall  of  the  chasm. 

But,  whenever  the  look  is  taken,  the  heart  seems  full 
to  bursting.  It  is  not  easy  to  realize  that  the  river, 
whose  waters  have  cut  their  way  from  the  surface  of  the 
plateau,  is  fully  five  miles  from  the  brink  in  a  straight 
line.  It  is  still  more  difficult  to  believe  that  what  seems 
like  a  mere  thread  of  silver  is  really  a  turbid,  angry 
torrent  feared  by  the  Indians,  and  conquered  by  only 
a  few  daring  explorers. 

One  of  these,  who  conducted  an  expedition  in  1889, 
has  told  of  his  wildest  ride  on  the  river.  ' i  The  canyon 
was  so  narrow,  the  turns  were  so  quick  and  sharp ;  the 
current  was  rushing  first  on  one  side  and  then  on  the 
other,  forming  whirlpools,  eddies,  and  chutes  (for  the 
river  by  a  sudden  flood  had  risen  some  twelve  feet). 
Our  boats,  caught  first  in  one  and  then  in  the  other,  now 
spun  round  like  leaves  in  the  wind,  then  shot  far  to  the 
right  or  left  almost  against  the  wall ;  now  caught  in  a 
mighty  roll,  and  first  carried  to  the  top  of  the  great 
wave,  and  then  dropped  into  the  trough  of  the  rear  with 
a  force  almost  sufficient  to  take  one's  breath." 

It  was  more  than  three  hundred  years  after  the 
discovery  of  the  canyon  by  the  Spaniards  in  1540  before 
an  expedition  braved  the  unknown  perils  of  the  stream, 
a  mighty  river  two  thousand  miles  long,  draining  three 
hundred  thousand  square  miles,  and  passing  for  two 

108 


GOD'S  AUTOGRAPH  IN  STONE 

hundred  and  seventeen  miles  in  the  depths  of  the  canyon 
of  its  own  making. 

The  most  complete  exploration  made  up  to  that  time 
was  that  of  Major  Powell  and  his  party  in  1869.  Three 
months  were  spent  in  traversing  one  thousand  miles  of 
water.  Three  of  his  nine  men  lost  their  lives,  but  it 
was  not  the  river  that  destroyed  them.  The  terrors  of 
the  passage  through  the  canyon  became  too  great  for 
them,  and  they  left  the  party  and  climbed  to  the  plateau. 
There  they  were  discovered  by  Indians,  who  would  not 
credit  the  tale  that  they  had  come  down  the  river  in 
boats.  Thinking  that  they  were  being  deceived,  they 
put  the  intruders  to  death. 

While  tourists  cannot  yet  undertake  the  passage  of 
the  treacherous  river,  they  can  find  their  way  down  the 
side  of  the  canyon  to  the  edge  of  the  stream.  There 
are  a  number  of  more  or  less  difficult  trails.  Perhaps 
the  most  famous  of  these  is  Bright  Angel  Trail,  down 
which  guides  conduct  tourists  on  donkey-back.  Eight 
hours  are  required  for  the  round  trip. 

Those  who  do  not  feel  equal  to  this  somewhat  fatig 
uing  trail  trip  can  walk  or  drive  along  the  river,  seeking 
points  where  the  canyon  can  be  seen  to  advantage.  One 
of  the  best  of  these  is  fortunately  readily  accessible  by 
automobile  road  through  the  Coconino  Forest.  This  is 
Grand  View  Point,  from  which  one  can  see  the  elbow 
formed  by  the  turn  of  the  river  from  the  north  to  the 
southwest.  Here  the  distance  is  more  than  twenty  miles 
to  the  opposite  rim  of  the  canyon,  and  spread  before 
the  eye  is  a  vision  beside  which  the  glories  already  seen 
seem  small.  Yet  it  is  not  right  to  use  that  word.  As 
if  anything  in  the  Grand  Canyon  could  be  called  small ! 

The  view  upstream  and  downstream  gives  a  better 

109 


SEEING   THE  FAR   WEST 

realization  than  would  otherwise  be  possible  of  the  fact 
that  the  chasm  is  not  a  single  canyon ;  it  is  made  up  of 
many  canyons  which  intersect  one  another  until  the 
result  is  like  a  labyrinth.  In  this  labyrinth  hundreds 
of  the  natural  wonders  at  which  travelers  marvel  might 
be  deposited,  and  they  would  be  lost  unless  one  should 
search  for  them  diligently.  Even  when  found  they 
would  be  so  dwarfed  by  the  majesty  around  them  that 
they  would  excite  no  comment. 

This  is  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Colorado  which 
"flashes  instant  communication  of  all  that  architecture 
and  painting  and  music  for  a  thousand  years  have 
gropingly  striven  to  express."  This  is  the  crowning 
glory  of  American  scenery,  "a  paradox  of  chaos  and 
repose,  of  gloom  and  radiance,  of  immeasurable  desola 
tion  and  enthralling  beauty.  It  is  a  despair  and  a  joy, 
a  woe  and  an  ecstasy,  a  requiem  and  a  hallelujah,  a 
world  ruin  and  a  world  joy." 

The  author  asked  his  guide  whether  he  ever  longed 
to  get  away  from  the  chasm.  Pointing  to  a  distant  spot 
on  the  river,  he  said:  "I  was  born  there.  I  have  lived 
here  all  my  life.  I  have  gone  down  into  the  depths,  and 
have  crossed  the  stream  that  looks  so  little  from  here ; 
I  have  stood  with  hundreds  of  parties  on  this  point,  and 
have  talked  with  them  of  what  they  could  see.  But  I 
never  weary  of  it. ' ' 

A  second  query  was  put  to  him,  "What  does  the 
canyon  say  to  you  ? ' ' 

He  hesitated.  Then,  in  a  subdued  tone  he  replied, 
"It  tells  me  of  God." 


CHAPTER  XI 
ALONG  THE  WESTERN  BORDER  OF  ARIZONA 

FROM  Green  Eiver,  Wyoming,  to  the  western  limit 
of  the  Grand  Canyon,  the  Green  and  Colorado 
Rivers  descend  more  than  five  thousand  feet.  The 
further  descent  of  the  Colorado  from  the  mouth  of  the 
Virgin  River  to  the  Gulf  of  California  is  more  than 
eight  hundred  feet.  This  section  of  the  stream  is  usu 
ally  looked  on  as  comparatively  quiet  by  tourists  who 
cross  it  on  the  Southern  Pacific  at  Yuma,  or  even  on  the 
Santa  Fe  at  Needles.  Indeed,  if  the  entire  stream  were 
like  the  sections  seen  at  these  points  the  suggestion 
made  in  1806  by  Colonel  Zebulon  Pike  would  not  seem 
so  far  wrong;  after  his  visit  to  the  vicinity  of  Pike's 
Peak  he  suggested  what  he  thought  was  a  solution  for 
the  problem  of  easy  communication  between  the  plains 
and  the  Pacific  Ocean.  The  route  he  suggested  was  by 
water,  except  for  about  two  hundred  miles;  pioneers 
were  to  be  asked  to  ascend  the  Arkansas  River,  then 
cross  over  to  the  Colorado  River  and  descend  its  waters 
to  the  Gulf  of  California,  Evidently  he  thought  that 
the  course  of  the  Colorado  was  much  like  that  of  the 
Arkansas.  It  did  not  enter  his  mind  that  between  its 
source  in  Colorado  and  its  exit  to  the  sea  the  Colorado 
presented  more  majestic  difficulties  than  any  other 
river  in  America. 

It  was  not  long,  however,  until  other  explorers  began 
to  tell  stories  of  a  river  lost  in  a  great  chasm,  of  a 
tremendous  fissure  in  the  earth's  surface  of  which  the 
Indians  spoke  with  awe,  of  mysteries  that  baffled  de 
scription,  yet  lured  the  investigator. 

ill 


SEEING   THE  FAR   WEST 

Finally  the  United  States  authorities  determined  to 
make  the  river  give  up  its  secrets.  Expeditions  were 
organized  to  explore  the  stream.  The  easiest  way 
seemed  to  be  to  attack  it  from  the  mouth,  for  there,  and 
for  more  than  a  hundred  miles,  it  seemed  to  be  as  well 
conducted  and  self-respecting  a  river  as  others  on 
the  continent. 

In  1857  a  party  under  Lieutenant  Ives  was  commis 
sioned  to  ascend  the  Colorado  and  map  its  wanderings. 
It  was  known  that  he  would  have  difficulties  of  shallow 
water,  rocks  and  cataracts  to  contend  with,  and  a  curious 
steamer  was  constructed  for  him  which,  it  was  thought, 
would  enable  him  to  go  far  toward  the  source.  This  ves 
sel,  called  the  Explorer,  was  fifty-four  feet  long,  and 
had  a  stern  wheel.  The  hull  was  open  amidships.  The 
boiler  occupied  one-third  of  the  vacant  space.  There 
was  a  little  deck  at  the  bow;  on  this  was  a  four- 
pound  howitzer. 

The  strange  vessel  attracted  the  attention  of  the 
Mohave  Indians,  who  lived  along  the  river.  Once  the 
historian  of  the  party  wrote :  "  All  day  the  Indians  have 
followed  us,  examining  the  boat  and  its  occupants  with 
huge  curiosity. ' '  The  children  were  a  fascinated  feat 
ure  of  the  observing  parties.  i  i  Their  delight  to-day  has 
been  to  mimic  the  man  at  the  bow  who  takes  the  sound 
ings  ;  every  call  being  echoed  from  the  bank  with  amaz 
ing  fidelity  of  tone  and  accent. ' ' 

The  government  document  in  which  Lieutenant  Ives 
described  his  expedition  is  anything  but  dry  and  prosaic. 
His  way  led  through  natural  features  whose  strange 
sublimity  is  perhaps  unparalleled  in  any  part  of  the 
world.  "At  every  instant  the  scenery  became  wilder 
and  more  romantic, "  he  said.  The  rocky  banks  became 
112 


THE   WESTERN  BORDER  OF  ARIZONA 

higher ;  finally  they  became  cliffs,  then  precipices.  The 
water  swirled  and  rushed  in  eddies  and  cataracts  that 
threatened  the  boat  at  every  instant.  The  canyon  be 
came  so  deep  that  it  was  like  dusk  at  midday.  The 
wondrous  colorings  of  the  rocks  caused  amazement. 

The  Needles  were  so  named  by  Lieutenant  Whipple. 
Beyond  he  saw  the  Mohave  Canyon,  where  "a  low  pur 
ple  gateway  and  a  splendid  corridor,  with  massive  red 
walls,  formed  the  entrance  to  the  canyon.  At  the  head 
of  the  avenue  frowning  mountains,  piled  one  above  the 
other,  seemed  to  block  the  way.  An  abrupt  turn  at 
the  base  of  the  apparent  barrier  revealed  a  cavern-like 
approach  to  the  profound  chasm  beyond.  A  scene  of 
such  inspiring  grandeur  as  that  which  now  presented 
itself  I  have  never  before  witnessed.  On  either  side 
majestic  cliffs,  hundreds  of  feet  in  height,  rose  precipi 
tously  from  the  water.  As  the  river  went  through  the 
narrow  entrance  every  turn  developed  some  sublime 
effect  or  startling  novelty  in  the  view.  Brilliant  tints  of 
purple,  green,  brown,  red,  and  white  illuminated  the 
stupendous  surfaces  and  relieved  the  sombre  monotony. 
Far  above,  clear  and  distinct  upon  the  narrow  strip  of 
sky,  turrets,  spires,  jagged  statue-like  peaks  and  gro 
tesque  pinnacles  overlooked  the  deep  abyss." 

Some  distance  farther  on  the  river  leads  through  the 
Black  Mountain,  by  a  canyon  the  deepest  and  most 
mysterious  yet  seen.  Just  before  entering  this,  in  the 
rapids,  the  explorers  struck  a  sunken  rock.  "For  a 
second  the  impression  was  that  the  canyon  had  fallen 
in,"  Lieutenant  Ives  said.  "The  concussion  was  so 
violent  that  the  men  in  the  bow  were  thrown  overboard. 
The  person  who  was  pitching  a  log  into  the  fire,  went 
8  us 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

half-way  in  with  it ;  the  boiler  was  thrown  out  of  place, 
the  steam  pipe  doubled  up,  the  wheel-house  torn  away." 

Slowly  and  painfully  the  voyage  was  continued 
along  the  entire  western  border  of  Arizona,  to  within  a 
short  distance  of  the  place  where  the  Virgin  Eiver  meets 
the  Colorado,  the  place  where  tourists  from  the  north 
who  do  not  mind  a  bit  of  hardship  come  down  from  Salt 
Lake  City,  through  the  Little  Zion  section,  for  a  view  of 
the  canyon  that  many  think  exceeds  in  grandeur  any 
thing  offered  from  the  more  easily  accessible  southern 
rim  of  the  Grand  Canyon. 

The  route  taken  by  the  visitor  from  the  North  is 
much  the  same  as  that  outlined  by  Lieutenant  Ives  as  a 
part  of  the  route  for  the  transportation  of  supplies  to 
the  military  forts  in  Utah.  To  discover  this  he  had  been 
sent  up  the  river.  By  the  adoption  of  this  route  up  the 
river  and  then  by  land  to  Great  Salt  Lake  seven  hun 
dred  miles  would  be  saved  over  the  all-land  route. 

When  he  had  made  his  observations,  Lieutenant 
Ives  reluctantly  turned  from  the  river  "  whose  strange 
sublimity  is  perhaps  unparalleled  in  any  part  of  the 
world,"  a  region,  in  the  words  of  another  pioneer  ex 
plorer,  "more  difficult  to  traverse  than  the  Alps  or  the 
Himalayas."  Then  he  added  that  by  a  study  of  this 
region  "a  concept  of  sublimity  can  be  obtained  never 
again  to  be  equaled  on  the  hither  side  of  Paradise." 


CHAPTER  XII 
THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SALTON  SINK 

THE  students  of  geology,  fascinated  by  the  rec 
ords  that  may  be  learned  by  those  skilled  in  the 
science  as  they  interview  mountains  and  rocks 
and  plains  and  canyons,  have  been  known  to  wish  that 
they  could  have  lived  in  an  age  when  some  of  the  things 
were  going  on.    But  the  geologist  replies  that  to-day 
many  similar  changes  are  in  progress,  yet  it  is  impos 
sible  to  measure  them  because  one  year  or  even  one 
hundred  years  sees  little  advance  in  a  movement  that, 
measured  in  some  future  age,  may  seem  immense. 

Yet  it  is  possible  to  refer  the  curious  to  a  region 
where  some  of  the  processes  of  geology,  usually  age 
long,  have  been  compressed  into  a  few  years.  This 
region  is  from  Yuma  westward  across  the  great  depres 
sion  in  Southern  California,  known  as  the  Salton  Sink. 
Here,  since  1904,  have  taken  place  earth-building  and 
earth-destroying  events  that  are  a  picture  in  miniature 
of  other  gigantic  processes  of  geologic  time.  And  who 
dares  prophesy  that,  even  within  a  few  years,  similar 
occurrences  will  not  destroy  the  fertile  lands  of  the 
valley  to  the  west  of  the  Colorado,  whose  waters,  now 
forced  to  do  the  will  of  man,  ever  threaten  to  have  their 
own  way  again?  Those  who  travel  from  Yuma  west 
ward  by  the  Southern  Pacific  will  cross  this  region  of 
romantic  history. 

For  ages  the  great  river  has  been  busily  building 
and  destroying  all  along  the  lower  section  of  its  erratic 
course.  Time  was  when  the  Gulf  of  California  reached 

115 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

to  the  north  about  to  the  point  where  Yuma  is  now 
located.  As  the  Colorado  brought  down  billions  of 
cubic  feet  of  soil,  this  was  deposited  at  the  mouth,  and 
the  gulf  was  gradually  pushed  much  farther  south. 
West  of  the  river  an  arm  of  the  gulf  extended  to  the 
north,  but  this,  too,  fell  a  prey  to  Colorado  silt ;  a  natural 
dam  was  thrown  across  this  arm  of  the  gulf.  Of  course 
the  result  was  a  salt  water  lake.  Silt  deposited  in  the 
channel  of  the  river  made  it  higher  than  the  surround 
ing  country.  Naturally,  then,  when  the  periodical  floods 
came,  the  water  overflowed  the  banks  and  sought  the 
land-locked  salt-water  sea  by  channels  cut  for  the  pur 
pose  which  are  now  known  as  the  Alamo  Eiver  and 
the  New  Eiver.  Then  came  other  floods — and  it  is  never 
possible  to  tell  what  a  flood  will  do.  The  floods  dammed 
the  two  channels  that  renewed  the  supplies  of  what, 
by  this  time,  had  become  a  fresh-water  lake.  Of  course, 
under  the  circumstances,  the  lake  had  no  choice  as  to  its 
conduct,  but  had  to  dry  up  and  disappear.  There  was 
left  a  great  depression,  at  its  lowest  point  nearly  three 
hundred  feet  below  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  some  two 
thousand  square  miles  in  extent. 

For  a  long  time  settlers  looked  with  suspicion  on  the 
lands  of  the  Salton  Sink,  as  it  was  called.  Then  came 
the  discovery  that  all  those  lands  needed  to  produce 
crops  of  fabulous  riches  was  water.  About  1900  the 
California  Development  Company  sought  to  supply  the 
need  by  cutting  an  opening  in  the  Colorado,  and  divert 
ing  a  sufficient  quantity  of  water  from  the  streams 
through  more  than  three  hundred  miles  of  canals,  lead 
ing  to  all  parts  of  the  valley.  The  effort  was  success 
ful.  The  water  had  sufficient  fall,  as  the  river  at  the 
point  where  the  opening  was  made  is  one  hundred  and 

116 


AN    IRRIGATING    CANAL 


ARIZONA    DESERT    NEAR    PHCENIX 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SALTON  SINK 

ten  feet  above  sea  level,  while  the  upper  limit  of  the  area 
to  be  watered — eighty  miles  away — is  two  hundred 
and  eighty-seven  feet  below  sea  level.  The  lands  were 
taken  up  rapidly.  Six  towns  were  built.  Twelve  thou 
sand  prosperous  farmers  depended  on  the  water  supply. 
But  the  periodical  floods,  depositing  on  the  banks  the 
same  rich  silt  by  which  the  Imperial  Valley  had  been 
built,  clogged  the  opening  to  the  main  canal.  Another 
opening  was  made,  and  closed  in  the  same  way.  Then 
permission  was  secured  from  Mexico  to  cut  an  opening 
fifty  feet  wide  in  the  west  bank  of  the  river  in  Mexican 
territory,  just  below  the  California  line,  not  far  from 
Yuma,  Arizona,  It  was  in  September,  1904,  that  this 
opening  was  made,  and  the  builders  delayed  making 
preparations  to  close  the  gap.  Why  not!  Months 
would  pass  before  a  flood  was  due. 

But  the  unexpected  happened.  A  cloudburst  brought 
sudden  flood  and  disaster.  The  rushing  waters  entered 
the  fifty-foot  gap,  deserted  their  own  channel,  and 
rushed  down  the  easier  descent  toward  the  Salton  Sink, 
at  the  northern  end  of  the  valley.  Fertile  farms  were 
inundated ;  towns  were  washed  away ;  the  railroad  was 
destroyed ;  the  great  salt  works  were  put  out  of  commis 
sion  ;  and  an  inland  sea  was  formed  in  the  Sink.  But 
this  was  not  the  worst.  The  flood,  hurtling  forward 
down  the  rapid  descent,  scoured  out  a  channel,  deeper 
and  yet  deeper,  wider  and  yet  wider  in  the  silt  floor  of 
the  valley,  and  the  rich  deposits  of  thousands  of  years 
were  ruthlessly  swept  away.  Three  times  attempts 
were  made  to  stem  the  flood;  three  times  the  men  who 
battled  with  the  river  were  driven  back  exhausted,  and 
the  waters  swept  on.  On  June  4,  1906,  not  long  after 
the  failure  of  the  last  attempt,  an  observer  looked  down 

117 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

from  a  high  tower  in  Calexico  upon  ' '  a  chocolate-colored 
expanse  of  rapids  eleven  miles  in  width. ' '  Twenty-five 
days  later  he  looked  again.  The  eleven-mile-broad  ex 
panse  had  disappeared  in  a  canyon  fifty  feet  deep.  Less 
than  five  months  later,  from  the  same  spot,  he  saw  a 
gulch  from  fifty  to  eighty  feet  deep,  and  two  thousand 
feet  wide. 

Through  this  channel  the  yellow  waters  rushed  to 
the  Sink,  carrying  with  them  the  silt,  about  450,000,000 
cubic  yards.  Then  the  stream,  unable  to  remain  at  rest 
in  the  Sink,  began  to  cut  backward,  upstream.  At  the 
time  it  was  reported  that,  at  the  maximum  recession, 
the  river  cut  out  a  canyon  backward  at  the  rate  of  one 
mile  in  forty-eight  hours.  The  damage  already  accom 
plished  and  imminently  threatened  was  thus  described 
by  Director  Larkin  of  the  Lowe  Observatory : 

Thirty  thousand  acres  had  already  been  washed 
into  the  Salton  Sink,  and  thirty  thousand  more  had  been 
damaged  by  little  canyons  and  gullies.  The  entire 
valley  would  soon  revert  to  primeval  desert,  because 
the  Colorado  Eiver  would  cut  lower  than  the  bank  of  the 
Imperial  Canal,  destroying  its  system  of  three  hundred 
miles  of  canals,  forever  dispelling  hope  of  irrigating 
the  expanse  of  rich  lands,  both  in  California  and 
Mexico.  .  .  .  Then  desert,  death  and  solitude  would 
reign  so  long  as  the  earth  existed. 

Further,  the  upstream  cutting-out  would  continue 
until  the  United  States'  irrigating  project  about  Yuma 
would  be  made  forever  impossible,  and  ninety-seven 
thousand  acres  more  of  rich  land  would  become  desert. 

In  order  to  prevent  the  irretrievable  calamity  of  the 
cutting  back  of  the  waters  until  they  reached  the  Colo 
rado,  the  Southern  Pacific  Railway  Company  arrayed 

118 


THE  ROMANCE  OF  THE  SALTON  SINK 

all  its  forces  to  fight  the  river.  A  twelve-mile  branch 
was  built,  orders  were  issued  to  every  stone  quarry 
within  three  hundred  and  fifty  miles  to  get  out  material, 
and  freight  business  on  two  divisions  was  brought  to  a 
standstill,  that  cars  might  be  at  hand  to  carry  the  rock 
quarried  by  thousands  of  men.  Men  and  materials 
were  massed  at  the  break  in  the  river,  that  everything 
might  be  ready ;  rock,  gravel,  sand,  clay,  piles,  ties,  steel 
rails,  and  a  host  of  other  things ;  a  steamer,  a  flatboat,  a 
giant  dredger,  steam  shovels,  a  pile-driver,  steam 
pumps,  cables,  spikes,  picks,  and  hammers  galore; 
six  hundred  Europeans  and  Mexicans,  and  four  hun 
dred  and  fifty  Indians,  as  well  as  six  hundred  horses 
and  mules. 

Preparations  thus  completed,  eight  immense  moun 
tain-climbing  locomotives  began  to  distribute  the  mate 
rial  for  use.  Piles  were  driven  across  the  stream. 
Steel  cables  were  fastened  to  these.  Hundreds  of  men 
on  a  flatboat  made  willows  into  bundles,  bound  with 
wire.  Huge  logs  were  buried  in  the  silt-bank,  a  cable 
was  attached  to  each  log,  then  stretched  to  spools  on  the 
barge,  and  the  willow  bundles,  each  one  hundred  feet 
long,  were  fastened  to  the  cables.  "Thus  the  cables 
were  the  warp,  and  the  bundles  the  woof,  of  a  carpet 
one  hundred  feet  wide  and  three  thousand  feet  long. 
.  .  .  The  carpet  slipped  over  the  edge  of  the  barge 
into  the  river  and  sank  to  the  bottom,  where  silt  at  once 
began  to  fill  in  between  the  leaves  and  twigs, "  an  ob 
server  wrote  vividly  at  the  time.  Then  the  "  carpet " 
was  tacked  down  with  piles,  in  two  parallel  rows.  Next 
a  railroad  was  built  in  the  piles. 

On  the  night  of  November  4,  1906,  came  the  climax. 
The  dam  was  constructed  from  both  banks — a  compara- 

119 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

lively  easy  task.  But,  at  last,  the  central  aperture,  three 
hundred  and  seventy-five  feet,  was  to  be  closed  against 
the  tremendous  deluge  of  water.  It  was  an  all-night 
battle,  but  it  was  won — for  the  time  being. 

Men  breathed  more  freely,  until  the  river  broke 
through  the  great  dam,  and  most  of  the  work  had  to  be 
done  over  again.  Undismayed,  the  forces  were  once 
more  assembled,  and  on  February  11, 1907,  the  gap  was 
again  closed,  after  incessant  work  for  fifteen  days  and 
two  hours.  Seventy-seven  thousand  cubic  yards  of  rock, 
gravel  and  clay  were  handled.  To  one  of  the  Interstate 
Commerce  Commissions — so  the  papers  report — Ed 
ward  Harriman  said  that  he  considered  this  fifteen-day 
struggle  the  greatest  achievement,  not  only  in  his  own 
experience,  but  in  recent  history. 

The  trouble  was  not  yet  ended,  but  watchfulness  and 
pluck  finally  conquered,  and  the  Imperial  Valley  once 
more  became  the  site  of  fertile  fields  and  green  orchards, 
of  pleasing  homes  and  prosperous  towns. 


CHAPTER  XIII 
ARIZONA'S  COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 

IT  is  not  necessary  to  go  to  the  Saraha  to  find  con 
trasts  of  shimmering  sands,  parched  desert  and 
oases  whose  astonishing  fertility  is  the  gift  of 
water  poured  out  in  abundance.  All  of  these  things,  and 
many  more,  may  be  found  in  Arizona,  the  state  of  strik 
ing  contrasts,  of  constant  surprises,  of  varied  and  un 
suspected  grandeur.  Eobert  Hichens  has  told  of  the 
Garden  of  Allah  in  North  Africa,  and  has  lured  many  to 
that  land  of  the  burning  sun,  but  at  our  doors  is  a  region 
that  surpasses  the  novelist's  garden  as  the  mountain  ex 
ceeds  the  hill,  or  as  the  sun  surpasses  the  moon.  Algiers 
may  have  the  wandering  Arab,  the  deceiving  mirage, 
the  ever-shifting  sands,  the  flat-roofed  houses  with  a 
background  of  waving  palm  trees ;  but  Arizona  has  the 
Indian  and  his  hogons,  the  Mexican  and  his  adobes,  the 
desert  and  its  mysteries,  and,  in  addition  to  all  of  these, 
forests  and  rivers,  mountains  and  valleys,  chasms  and 
canyons,  as  well  as  cities  in  gardens  of  delight. 

It  is  possible  to  cross  the  state  from  east  to  west  or 
west  to  east  by  two  railroads,  and  to  pass  from  one  of 
these  railroads  to  the  other  by  a  crossroad ;  then  there 
are  highways  that  offer  the  finest  inducements  to  the 
automobilist.  To  the  tourist  who  makes  use  only  of 
these  main-traveled  routes  Arizona  unfolds  a  startling 
array  of  wonders.  But  much  of  the  best  is  reserved  for 
those  who  go  far  afield,  to  the  north  or  the  south,  to  the 
east  or  the  west  of  the  ways  that  offer  the  easiest  pas 
sage  through  the  state,  and  so  find  regions  of  legend 
and  romance. 

121 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

It  is,  of  course,  interesting  to  note  when  passing 
Manuelito,  the  station  on  the  Sante  Fe  that  is  almost 
on  the  line  between  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  that  the 
town  was  named  for  a  Navajo  chief,  who,  in  1855,  tried 
in  vain  to  put  an  end  to  the  differences  between  his 
tribe  and  the  settlers  that  continued  until  1863.  But  it 
is  so  much  better  to  be  able  to  make  the  somewhat  diffi 
cult  journey  to  Canyon  de  Chelly  and  its  tributaries, 
Canyon  del  Muerto  and  Canyon  of  Monuments.  The 
trip  may  be  made  by  motor  to  Chinle  trading  post,  then 
by  horse  five  miles  to  Canyon  de  Chelly.  Of  the  many 
remarkable  features  of  these  canyons  the  greatest,  per 
haps,  is  the  glistening  White  House,  built  no  one  knows 
how  many  centuries  ago,  in  a  cave  forty  feet  high,  two 
hundred  feet  wide  and  one  hundred  feet  deep,  hollowed 
out  of  the  face  of  a  forbidding  cliff  two  thousand  feet 
high.  From  the  top  of  the  cliff  the  cave  cannot  be 
seen,  for  the  great  rock  face  slopes  inward  more  than 
one  hundred  feet. 

The  Eio  de  Chelly  flows — when  there  is  water  in  its 
bed — far  down  between  sandstone  walls.  Here  and 
there  are  odd-shaped  pinnacles  like,  yet  unlike,  those 
in  the  Garden  of  the  Gods.  Concerning  one  of  these, 
which  is  nearly  eight  hundred  feet  high,  the  Indians 
tell  a  remarkable  story.  In  the  days  when  there  were 
thousands  of  people  in  the  now  desolate  region,  many 
of  them  living  deep  in  the  caves  or  perched  high  on 
the  cliffs  of  convenient  canyons,  one  of  these  cliff 
dwellers,  caught  far  from  home  by  enemies,  was  pursued 
to  the  precipitous  banks  of  the  Eio  de  Chelly.  He 
despaired  of  hiding  himself  successfully  until  he  saw, 
hanging  from  the  top  of  a  lofty  pinnacle,  a  cord  that 
looked  as  if  it  might  bear  his  weight.  By  the  aid  of 
122 


NATURAL    BRIDGE    IN    SANDSTONE,    NORTH    OF    MANUELITO,    ARIZONA 


BAD    LANDS,    NEAR    W1NBLOW,    ARIZONA 


SCATTERED    FRAGMENTS,    PETRIFIED    FOREST, 
ARIZONA 


MONTEZUMA    CASTLE,    ARIZONA 


ARIZONA'S   COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 

the  timely  assistance  he  clambered  up  the  sandstone  pin 
nacle.  From  the  top  he  watched  his  discomfited  ene 
mies  far  below  him.  They  hoped  to  starve  him  into 
surrender,  but  he  had  so  many  eagles '  eggs  to  eat  that 
he  was  able  to  outstay  them.  Then  he  made  his  way 
to  the  base  of  the  pinnacle,  and  rode  away  to  his  home 
on  the  cliffs.  In  gratitude  for  his  escape,  he  told  an 
admiring  audience  of  the  spider  at  the  top  of  the  pin 
nacle,  which,  seeing  his  plight,  let  down  a  heavy  strand 
of  its  own  spinning,  and  so  made  his  escape  easy. 
Of  course  there  was  but  one  possible  name  for  the  pin 
nacle  after  that;  the  Spider 's  Tower  it  is  and  must 
continue  to  be. 

No  legend  is  needed  to  add  interest  to  the  Petrified 
Forests,  a  district  a  few  miles  to  the  south  of  Adamana, 
the  railroad  town  which  may  be  made  the  terminus  of  the 
round  trip  to  the  canyon  of  the  Spider  *s  Tower.  There 
are  three  of  these  forests  where,  scattered  over  an  area 
of  many  square  miles,  are  the  trunks  of  hundreds  of 
gigantic  forest  trees  that  stood  in  majesty  in  an  age 
long  gone.  Probably  they  grew  by  a  lake  at  some  dis 
tance  from  the  place  where  they  now  give  delight  to  the 
visitor  who  picks  his  way  among  the  broken  sections 
or  crosses  the  ravine  in  the  First  Forest,  nearest  to 
Adamana,  on  the  sixty-foot  agatized  log  embedded  at 
either  end  in  sandstone.  When  they  fell  they  must  have 
been  carried  down  some  stream  to  their  final  resting 
place.  The  next  step  in  their  history  was  the  deposit 
of  sand  and  clay  above  them  until  they  were  buried  pos 
sibly  several  thousand  feet  deep.  Then  underground 
water  displaced  the  wood  cells  by  silica.  Next  came 
the  erosion  of  the  overlying  sand  and  the  uncovering 
of  the  marvels  that  are  now  like  the  jewels  of  Aladdin's 

123 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

cave.  Here  are  amethyst  and  topaz,  onyx  and  chalced 
ony,  carnelian  and  agate.  Efforts  have  been  made  to 
cut  the  logs  and  release  some  of  these  jewels,  but  not 
much  can  be  done  in  this  direction  when  a  six-inch  steel 
saw  is  worn  to  a  ribbon  half  an  inch  wide  in  the  attempt 
to  saw  through  a  single  log.  Even  then  the  work  re 
quires  several  days.  It  would  be  interesting  to  learn 
how  the  Indians  managed  to  fashion  their  stone  ham 
mers,  arrowheads,  knives  and  scrapers  from  the  chips 
of  these  jeweled  logs. 

It  is  fortunate  that  these  fallen  and  transformed 
monarchs  have  proved  so  hard  to  cut;  otherwise  they 
might  not  have  been  on  hand  in  such  profusion  when,  in 
1906,  the  four  forests  which  make  up  the  region  were 
set  apart  as  a  National  Monument.  Visitors  are  for 
bidden  to  carry  away  any  petrifaction,  even  the  smallest 
chip,  but  they  are  permitted  to  know  that  thin  slices  of 
the  logs  have  been  ground  down  to  an  unbelievable  thin 
ness.  To  the  naked  eye  of  the  casual  observer  these 
samples  from  Arizona's  Garden  of  Jewels  are  a  vision 
of  beauty;  under  the  microscope  of  the  scientist  they 
tell  in  plainest  language  the  wonder  story  of  transfor 
mation  from  stately,  erect,  cone-bearing  trees,  to  pros 
trate  cabinets  of  precious  stone. 

One  of  the  comparatively  few  men  who  know  well 
this  region  of  the  petrified  forests  is  a  character  of 
whom  Arizona  tells  with  pride — old  Ben  Lily,  a  pro 
fessional  hunter  who  finds  his  quarry  in  the  forests 
south  of  the  jeweled  tree  trunks.  It  is  his  business  to 
kill  the  lions  and  the  bears  that  prey  on  the  cattle  that 
are  grazing  in  the  Apache  Forest  and  its  neighborhood. 

This  mighty  hunter  boasts  that  during  four  recent 
years  he  succeeded  in  tracking  to  their  death  one  hun- 

124 


ARIZONA'S  COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 

dred  and  fifty-four  mountain  lions,  as  well  as  forty-six 
bears.  Since  a  single  mountain  lion  has  been  known  to 
kill  enough  cattle  to  make  his  damage  bill  five  thousand 
dollars  a  year,  it  is  evident  that  the  animal  trailer  of 
the  Apache  Forest  saves  the  cattle  raisers  immense 
sums.  Naturally  he  is  appreciated  and  is  well  paid 
for  his  work.  Travelers  who  are  fortunate  enough  to 
meet  him  when  he  is  in  a  communicative  mood  go  home 
with  a  fine  repertoire  of  hair-raising  stories. 

Ben  Lily  and  the  mountain  lions  have  a  rival  for 
the  attention  of  travelers  in  the  curious  Crater  Mound 
northwest  of  the  Apache  Forest,  and  only  a  short  dis 
tance  from  the  railroad  and  the  National  Old  Trails 
Highway.  This  strange  hole  in  the  sandstone  rock  is 
about  four  thousand  feet  in  diameter  and  six  hundred 
feet  deep.  A  rim  of  loose  rock  encircles  the  hole,  and 
this  is  from  one  hundred  to  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet 
high.  Once  the  popular  name  for  this  mysterious  feat 
ure  of  the  landscape  was  Meteorite  Mountain,  because 
of  the  belief  of  some  geologists  that  the  hole  was  made 
by  a  monster  meteor.  The  story,  and  the  discovery  of 
a  specimen  of  meteoric  iron  in  the  vicinity,  led  to  the 
organization  of  a  mining  company  whose  promoters  had 
tall  dreams  of  the  fortune  they  would  find  by  probing 
for  iron  below  the  surface  of  the  cavity.  That  they 
did  not  find  iron  was  not  due  to  the  failure  of  the  probes 
— they  went  to  a  depth  of  more  than  one  thousand  feet 
before  it  was  decided  that  their  dream  was  as  elusive 
as  that  other  perennial  belief  in  Arizona,  the  existence 
of  platinum  in  certain  sections  of  the  Grand  Canyon. 

So  far  it  has  proved  difficult  to  turn  the  glorious 
canyons  of  Arizona  into  anything  but  things  of  beauty 
and  grandeur,  but  why  not  rest  content  with  these  as  an 

125 


SEEING   THE  FAR   WEST 

attraction  for  tourists  that  cannot  be  duplicated  any 
where?  On  every  side  these  water-worn  channels  of 
rivers  appear.  Ten  miles  from  Crater  Mound  is  Canyon 
Diablo,  which  travelers  by  rail  have  a  splendid  chance 
to  study  when  the  train  passes  on  the  lofty,  spider-like 
bridge  that  crosses  the  chasm  225  feet  deep  and  500 
feet  wide.  Steep  walls  of  limestone  guard  the  channel 
where  no  water  flows  except  after  one  of  the  rare 
but  sometimes  terrific  rainfalls  characteristic  of 
this  section. 

Eare  rainfalls  and  a  river  canyon  suggested  an 
opportunity  to  W.  E.  Johnston,  a  friend  of  the  Navajo 
Indians,  who  found  his  way  many  years  ago  to  the 
mysterious  Painted  Desert  region  to  the  north  of  Can 
yon  Diablo.  When  he  learned  that  no  missionary  work 
was  being  done  among  twenty-five  thousand  of  these 
Indians,  he  made  a  clearing  in  a  cottonwood  grove  on 
the  banks  of  the  Little  Colorado,  not  far  from  the  pres 
ent  site  of  Tolchaco.  At  first  the  Indians  were  suspi 
cious  of  him,  but  later  they  were  ready  to  do  as  he  said. 

He  was  troubled  because  the  Navajos,  who  were  not 
annuity  Indians,  but  earned  their  living  by  sheep-rais 
ing,  were  compelled  to  be  rovers.  He  found  that  their 
reservation  is  large,  but  that,  because  of  the  lack  of 
water,  it  was  useless  for  grazing  purposes  at  least  six 
months  in  the  year.  So  the  herders  wandered  about  in 
search  of  pasture,  remaining  but  a  few  weeks  in  a  place. 
He  could  not  hope  to  reach  them  effectively  unless  he 
could  break  up  their  nomadic  habits.  To  do  this,  per 
manent  pasturage  had  to  be  provided.  The  reservation 
itself  offered  little  opportunity  for  the  carrying  out  of 
his  plan.  The  extra-reservation  lands,  however,  are 
watered  by  the  Little  Colorado ;  that  is,  when  there  is 

126 


ARIZONA'S   COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 

any  water  in  the  stream,  which  is  only  periodically. 
The  bed  is  dry  except  after  the  infrequent  rains,  and 
when  the  melting  snows  send  down  floods  from  the 
mountains.  Then  the  dry  bed  speedily  becomes 
a  torrent. 

Mr.  Johnston  thought  of  the  blessing  to  the  Indians 
if  only  a  dam  could  be  constructed  and  the  flood  waters 
retained  for  use  in  time  of  drought.  People  told  him 
that  he  could  not  succeed  in  building  the  dam,  and  that, 
even  if  this  were  built,  he  had  no  assurance  that  the 
land  redeemed  by  so  much  labor  would  not  be  taken  from 
him  by  greedy  settlers. 

The  Indians  were  tempted  to  listen  to  the  doubters, 
but,  to  assure  them  of  the  permanency  of  their  invest 
ment  of  labor  in  his  project,  Mr.  Johnston,  with  two 
Navajos,  went  to  Washington  and  appealed  to  President 
Eoosevelt  to  withdraw  from  settlement  the  land  on  the 
river,  near  the  site  of  his  cottonwood  grove,  in  order 
to  permit  its  survey  and  allotment  to  the  Navajos, 
according  to  law.  The  request  was  granted  at  once. 

Then  the  irrigation  work  was  begun  in  earnest.  A 
canal  was  dug,  and  a  crude  pile-driver  was  made  by 
Mr.  Johnston  and  an  assistant,  with  the  aid  of  a  few 
Indians.  Tools  came  from  friends  in  the  East.  When 
ever  funds  were  exhausted  the  work  was  discontinued. 
Mr.  Johnston  was  the  tireless  superintendent,  and  his 
Navajo  helpers  were  inspired  by  his  example.  They 
were  often  hungry,  but  still  they  worked  away  with 
dogged  determination.  On  one  occasion,  when  the  mis 
sion  team  was  hired  by  settlers,  the  proceeds  were 
used  to  feed  Indian  workers  for  two  weeks. 

When  the  dam  was  within  three  days  of  completion, 
a  flood  came  down,  caused  by  rains  in  the  uplands. 

127 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

When  the  Indians  saw  their  work  threatened,  men, 
women  and  children  were  called  into  service.  One 
woman  nearly  seventy  years  of  age  worked  with  the 
others  to  save  what  represented  so  much  to  the  tribe. 
The  flood  gradually  worked  its  way  around  the  unfin 
ished  end  of  the  dam,  and  soon  cut  a  wide  channel 
through  it. 

But  the  Indians  were  not  discouraged.  Again  they 
set  to  work.  The  breach  was  repaired,  only  to  be 
opened  by  a  second  flood.  A  third  attempt  was  made, 
and  the  structure  was  finally  finished — three  hundred 
feet  of  stone  and  timber.  Then  all  waited  eagerly  for 
the  rising  of  the  water.  Although  that  season's  freshet 
was  not  so  great  as  usual,  the  water  retained  by  the  dam 
was  enough  to  prove  the  feasibility  of  the  leader's  plan. 
The  ditches  were  filled  and  the  underground  streams 
were  replenished,  so  that  a  number  of  wind-mills  drew 
water  from  wells  driven  in  convenient  locations. 

Then  once  more  the  cry  was  raised,  i  i  The  river  is 
coming ! ' '  As  before,  every  available  hand  was  raised 
to  avert  the  threatened  calamity,  but  in  spite  of  stren 
uous  efforts  the  rushing  waters  tore  a  gap  in  the  dam. 
Owing  to  unscientific  building  and  the  lack  of  proper 
tools,  the  structure  was  too  weak  to  withstand 
great  pressure. 

This  was  in  1902.  In  December  Mr.  Johnston  was 
urged  by  the  Commissioner  of  Indian  Affairs  to  visit 
Washington  for  a  conference.  Two  leading  Navajos, 
She-she-nez  and  Pesh-la-ki  Etsetty,  accompanied  him. 
In  Washington  he  was  asked  what  it  would  cost  to  com 
plete,  in  a  first-class  manner,  the  Indians'  irrigation 
plant,  including  ditches,  dam  and  conduits.  When  a 
rough  estimate  was  made,  he  was  at  once  told  that  five 

128 


ARIZONA'S  COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 

thousand  dollars  could  be  appropriated  for  the  purpose, 
and  the  Indians '  friend  was  asked  to  accept  an  appoint 
ment  from  the  government  to  take  general  charge  of 
the  work.  The  appointment  was  accepted  on  condition 
that  no  salary  be  paid.  The  Commissioner  reluctantly 
agreed,  but  he  insisted  on  sending  out  a  clerk  that 
the  missionary  might  be  relieved  of  accounts  and 
correspondence. 

In  February,  1903,  a  competent  engineer  was  hired 
and  the  work  of  rebuilding  was  begun.  A  number  of 
miles  of  ditches  and  laterals  were  laid  off,  and  plans 
were  drawn  for  a  more  massive  dam.  The  Indians 
flocked  in,  hungry,  and  eager  for  a  chance  to  earn  their 
bread  at  work  that  promised  so  much  for  their  future. 
One  old  man,  who  lived  across  the  river,  walked  ninety 
miles  to  reach  the  work.  The  river  was  high  and  the 
water  was  cold ;  but,  securing  a  shovel,  he  swam  across, 
and  asked  for  employment.  There  was  soon  an  entire 
brigade  of  old  men  who  worked  diligently.  Their  ages 
ranged  from  fifty  to  eighty  years.  By  March  8  there 
were  seventy-eight  Indians  of  all  ages  on  the  pay-roll. 
They  were  unskilled  and  undisciplined,  but  they  re 
sponded  readily  to  the  instruction  of  their  foremen. 
Soon  the  dam  was  completed,  but  again  flood  came  and 
took  it  away.  Since  that  time  the  work  has  not  been 
renewed,  but  somehow  the  missionary  managed  to  keep 
the  Indians  within  reach  of  Tolchaco.  A  successor  is  in 
the  place  of  Mr.  Johnston,  but  he  is  a  man  of  like  spirit. 

"How  can  an  intelligent  man  like  you  be  content  to 
remain  for  years  among  the  Indians  ? ' '  asked  a  visitor  to 
one  such  lonely  mission  station  among  the  Arizona 
Indians.  The  reply  compelled  thought : 

"Yonder  lives  a  trader — a  man  of  intelligence  and  of 

9  129 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

more  than  ordinary  business  ability.  He  has  been  here 
for  more  than  thirty-five  years.  He  came  when  life 
among  the  Navajos  was  not  unattended  by  danger  and 
when  the  discomforts  and  inconveniences  of  a  home 
in  the  desert  region  were  infinitely  greater  than  now. 
He  has  lived  here  for  more  than  a  third  of  a  century, 
and  will  doubtless  die  here.  Why  did  he  select  so 
dreary  and  unattractive  a  life?  To  make  money.  He 
has  accumulated  a  fortune.  Then  shall  I  be  less  zealous 
in  serving  my  Master  than  he  has  been  in  striving  for 
wealth?  It  does  not  seem  strange  to  you  that  these 
Indian  traders  are  scattered  here  and  there  all  over  the 
reservation.  Why  should  it  seem  strange  that  we  mis 
sionaries  accept  the  same  sort  of  life  with  gladness  ? ' ' 

The  Navajo  Indians  have  been  more  responsive  to 
efforts  for  their  enlightenment  than  the  Hopis,  whose 
villages,  of  which  Oraibi  is  one,  are  sixty  miles  north 
of  Winslow.  This  is  the  tribe  whose  snake  dance  is 
JSL  biennial  attraction  in  Arizona.  The  ceremonial  is 
accounted  for  by  a  weird  story,  current  among  the 
Hopis,  that  begins  with  the  coming  to  earth  of  the  first 
men  from  the  lower  world  to  remote  recesses  of  the 
Grand  Canyon.  When  these  first  men  went  here  and 
there,  as  their  fancy  led  them,  the  Hopis  turned  north 
until  the  cold  became  so  severe  that  they  were  forced 
to  seek  the  South  once  more.  There  they  made  their 
home  and  planted  their  crop.  But  no  rain  fell,  and 
they  were  in  difficulty.  So  Tigo,  one  of  the  chief  men, 
decided  to  go  back  to  the  lower  world  and  ask  for  advice. 
Embarking  on  the  Colorado  Eiver  in  a  dugout  canoe,  he 
waited  to  be  floated  to  the  abode  of  the  gods.  After 
descending  fearful  rapids  he  was  swallowed  up  in  the 
depths  and  found  himself  in  the  country  of  the  Snake- 

130 


ARIZONA'S   COLORFUL   CONTRASTS 

Antelopes.  There  he  learned  how  to  force  the  clouds  to 
send  the  life-giving  rain  to  the  earth. 

Before  he  started  back  to  earth  he  persuaded  two 
Snake-Antelope  maidens  to  accompany  him;  one  of 
them  he  agreed  to  marry,  while  the  second  was  to  marry 
his  brother.  When  Tigo  was  safe  at  home  the  marriage 
feast  was  held.  Among  the  guests  appeared  some  of  the 
Snake  people,  disguised  as  snakes,  who  danced  with  the 
Hopis.  At  the  end  of  the  marriage  celebration  the 
snakes  went  home,  in  their  own  forms,  promising  to 
bear  to  the  under-world  the  prayers  of  the  earth  people 
whose  acquaintance  they  had  made  so  pleasantly.  This, 
so  the  story  runs,  was  the  first  of  the  snake  dances  that 
have  followed  for  ages. 

Indian  legends  are  fitting  company  for  those  who 
go  to  Walnut  Canyon,  eight  miles  from  Flagstaff,  one 
of  the  most  accessible  of  all  the  cliff  dwellings  of  the 
southwest.  Beached  as  it  is  by  the  Santa  Fe  as  well  as 
by  the  Old  Trails  Highway,  several  thousand  people 
each  year  look  on  the  thirty  prehistoric  dwellings  along 
both  sides  of  the  canyon.  Some  of  these  visitors  go 
some  fifty  miles  farther  southwest,  to  Montezuma 
Castle,  in  Yavapai  County,  another  National  Monument 
named  for  the  chief  feature  among  the  cliff-dwellings 
to  be  found  there,  a  structure  built  in  a  cavity  half-way 
up  the  cliff,  which  is  reached  by  wooden  ladders  fastened 
to  the  face  of  the  rock.  The  Castle  is  five  stories  high ; 
and  it  has  many  remarkable  features,  among  them  being 
the  timbers  which  bear  the  marks  of  the  stone  axes  of  the 
builders.  There  is  no  sign  of  decay  in  these  timbers,  in 
spite  of  the  lapse  of  no  one  knows  how  many  centuries. 

While  Phoenix  is  the  usual  point  of  departure  for 
Montezuma  Castle,  this  curiosity  may  be  reached  from 

131 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

Flagstaff,  the  lumber  town  in  the  edge  of  the  great 
Coconino  Forest  whose  nearly  six  thousand  square 
miles  reach  from  the  Grand  Canyon  far  to  the  south. 

Flagstaff  commemorates  by  its  name  the  action  of 
a  company  of  emigrants  who  here  raised  a  flag  one 
Fourth  of  July  in  the  early  days  of  Arizona.  Those 
emigrants  must  have  been  reluctant  to  leave  their 
camping  place  by  the  flagstaff.  It  was  a  pleasant  spot 
then,  but  it  is  far  pleasanter  to-day  by  reason  of  the  acts 
of  public-spirited  citizens  who  have  made  the  town  an 
inviting  place. 

The  enthusiastic  automobilist  will  remember  it  be 
cause  from  here,  once  the  point  of  departure  of  the  stage 
for  the  Grand  Canyon,  a  fine  road  leads  to  the  north, 
through  the  Coconino  Forest,  whose  pine  trees  are 
from  450  to  520  years  old,  to  the  Grand  Canyon  at  Grand 
View  Point,  thence  near  the  rim  of  the  canyon  to  the 
hotel  at  Grand  Canyon  and  back  to  Old  Trails  Highway 
at  Williams,  where  passengers  by  rail  change  cars  for 
their  sight  of  what  Joaquin  Miller  called  "a  saber 
thrust  in  the  rich,  red  bosom  of  Mother  Earth,"  and 
Fitz- James  McCarthy  described  as  "this  geologic 
apocalypse,  half  mystery  and  half  revelation." 

The  highway  from  Flagstaff  to  Grand  View  passes 
to  the  east  of  the  San  Francisco  Mountains,  whose  lofty 
peaks  are  treasured  features  in  the  Flagstaff  landscape. 
These  mountains  were  favorite  resorts  of  the  Indians. 
Here  the  Havasupai  refugees  fled  after  being  driven 
from  the  Little  Colorado,  and  from  here  they  went  to 
their  present  home  in  Cataract  Canyon.  This,  too,  was 
the  place  of  the  Navajo  legend  of  the  coming  of  the 
first  men  and  animals  to  earth. 

The  Great  Spirit  had  created  them,  but  had  shut 

132 


ARIZONA'S   COLORFUL   CONTRASTS 

them  up  in  a  great  cave  in  the  San  Francisco  Moun 
tains.  They  were  content  with  life  in  the  dark  until 
a  badger  saw  a  locust  disappear  in  a  hole  in  the  wall 
which  he  had  made  for  himself.  The  badger  enlarged 
the  hole,  and  fell  down  the  mountain  side  into  a  lake 
in  the  Montezuma  Valley.  There  his  forepaws  were 
covered  with  mud.  This,  say  the  Navajos,  is  the  reason 
for  the  badger's  black  front  feet.  Missing  the  badger, 
the  Navajos  investigated.  Finding  the  hole,  they  en 
larged  it  until  they  could  make  the  exit  to  earth.  In  a 
little  while  the  cavern  was  empty,  and  the  earth 
was  peopled! 

For  two  hundred  miles  more  canyon  and  mountain, 
desert  and  cliff  greet  the  travelers,  all  the  way  to  the 
crossing  of  the  Colorado  into  California,  at  Needles, 
where  an  unusual  winter  climate,  palm  trees,  irrigated 
lands  and  the  curious  formation  from  which  the  town 
takes  its  name,  attract  those  who  look  for  a  pleasant 
resting  place. 

But  it  is  not  sufficient  to  cross  Arizona  once;  the 
state  is  so  large  and  its  surface  is  so  varied  that  the 
Southern  Pacific  route  from  Yuma  to  the  region  of 
Tucson  and  beyond  should  be  added,  if  possible. 

Yuma  contests  with  Needles  the  claim  to  be  a  winter 
resort;  the  proprietor  of  the  hotel  by  the  station 
blazons  to  travelers,  by  means  of  a  great  sign,  the 
fact  that  free  board  will  be  given  on  every  day  the 
sun  does  not  shine.  But  Yuma  people  have  a  fondness 
for  attracting  the  attention  of  those  who  pass  through. 
Once  the  popular  scheme  was  a  box  like  a  bird  cage 
perched  on  a  pole  on  the  station  platform.  Above  the 
box  was  the  sign,  "Bed  bat  from  the  Montezuma  Moun 
tains.  ' '  Of  course,  as  the  passengers  from  the  waiting 

133 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

train  filed  by,  one  in  each  company  lifted  the  curtain, 
to  see — a  bright  red  brickbat.  Thus  harmlessly  the 
humor  of  the  sun-blessed  Yumaites  expended  itself 
until  some  other  suggestion  came  to  them.  But  most 
of  them  are  too  busy  raising  staple  cotton  and  alfalfa 
to  take  part  in  jokes  on  tourists. 

From  Yuma  it  is  good  to  follow  the  valley  of  the  Gila 
River  to  Phoenix,  whose  claims  to  an  ideal  climate  are 
superior  to  those  of  the  Colorado  Eiver  town;  whose 
situation  among  the  palms  is  so  attractive  that  it  is 
difficult  to  leave  the  city,  and  return  to  it  becomes 
almost  a  necessity. 

The  man  who  thinks  of  Arizona  as  a  barren  desert 
should  study  Phoenix  and  its  surrounding  wealth  of 
rich  agricultural  land,  fed  by  carefully  treasured  water. 
And  anybody  who  thinks  that  the  impounding  of  the 
water  is  a  modern  invention,  should  see  near  at  hand 
the  evidences  of  the  ancient  civilization  of  the  Indians, 
who  had  their  systems  of  irrigation  centuries  before  the 
white  man  thought  of  making  his  garden  in  the  desert. 
These  Indian  irrigation  works  may  be  seen  best  in  the 
region  of  the  Salt  Eiver,  some  eighty  miles  from  Phoe 
nix,  where  eleven  main  canals  and  scores  of  miles  of 
laterals  can  be  traced,  a  system  capable  of  enriching 
at  least  one  hundred  thousand  acres. 

The  building  of  a  grand  dam  in  Salt  Eiver  that 
should  duplicate  and  surpass  the  triumphs  of  the  In 
dians  was  one  of  the  early  irrigation  dreams  of  Presi 
dent  Eoosevelt,  who  may  well  be  called  the  father 
of  irrigation. 

The  story  of  the  building  of  the  dam  for  the  im 
pounding  of  the  water  of  that  stream  and  Tonto  Creek 
will  always  be  an  epic  in  the  story  of  irrigation.  The 

134 


ARIZONA'S   COLORFUL   CONTRASTS 

site  selected  for  the  dam  was  in  a  great  canyon  which 
called  for  a  structure  280  feet  high  and  1125  feet  long. 
The  nearest  railway  station  was  forty  miles  away,  yet 
the  material  had  to  be  transported  across  the  waste. 
And  there  was  no  road.  But  the  road  was  built,  many 
miles  of  it  by  Apaches,  who  were  proud  to  work  without 
a  timekeeper.  A  cement  mill  had  to  be  built.  Lumber 
was  cut  in  a  sawmill  erected  for  the  purpose  in  the 
Sierra  Ancha  Mountains.  Electric  power  was  provided 
by  water  brought  in  a  canal  thirteen  miles  long,  but 
until  this  was  built  the  power  needed  came  from  three 
engines  which  required,  every  four  weeks,  a  pile  of  wood 
four  feet  high,  four  feet  wide,  and  more  than  a  mile 
long.  And  all  the  wood  had  to  be  carried  by  burros  a 
long  distance. 

The  road  built — in  part  by  Apache  laborers — in 
preparation  for  the  construction  of  the  dam  is  now 
known  as  the  Apache  Trail,  from  Globe  to  Phrenix. 
This  is  one  of  the  marvelous  roads  of  the  country,  not 
merely  because  of  its  splendid  surface  and  the  wonder 
ful  scenery  along  the  route,  but  because  of  its  history. 
In  addition  to  the  Apaches,  convicts  from  the  Arizona 
State  Penitentiary  were  employed.  These  men  were 
put  on  their  honor.  Among  the  thirty  convicts  who 
were  busy,  on  the  average,  many  were  serving  long  sen 
tences,  even  life  terms.  There  were  no  jailers  over 
them,  though  for  six  months  they  were  far  away  in 
the  pine  forest.  And  only  three  attempts  were  made 
to  escape! 

The  road  begins  at  Globe,  the  smelter  town,  where 
the  flames  leaping  from  the  great  stacks  startle  those 
who  think  they  have  left  far  behind  them  all  such  evi 
dences  of  industrial  progress. 

135 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

Forty  miles  from  Globe  the  road  passes  the  Tonto 
National  Monument,  where  automobiles  may  approach 
within  half  a  mile  of  some  of  the  cliff  dwellings  of  the 
ancient  people  who  first  irrigated  Salt  Eiver  Valley. 
Four  miles  farther  west  is  Roosevelt  Dam.  Then  from 
the  Tonto  Basin  to  Phoenix  come  the  best  of  the  one 
hundred  and  forty  miles  of  the  highway.  The  ap 
proach  to  Phoenix,  through  the  canyon,  along  Salt 
Eiver,  and  through  bending  cottonwood,  makes  a 
satisfying  preparation  for  the  disclosures  the  capital  of 
Arizona  is  about  to  make. 

Arizona  should  not  be  left  behind  until  a  pilgrimage 
is  made  to  Tucson,  southwest  of  the  Eoosevelt  Dam, 
and  almost  directly  south  of  Globe.  Here,  on  the  Santa 
Cruz  Eiver,  which  was  a  favorite  route  to  the  north 
of  the  early  Spanish  explorers,  was  the  site  of  an  ancient 
pueblo.  To  the  north  and  northeast  the  Catalina  Moun 
tains  lift  their  rugged  peaks  far  into  the  sky.  Other 
ranges  are  near  at  hand.  Many  unique  canyons  are 
everywhere,  especially  in  the  Catalinas.  One  of  these, 
Sabina  Canyon,  has  a  stream  of  water  that  falls  3700 
feet  in  six  miles !  The  stream  rises  in  the  heavy  timber 
on  Mount  Lemnon:  the  Catalinas  are  distinguished, 
among  other  things,  by  their  dense  forests.  First, 
at  an  elevation  of  about  six  thousand  feet,  there  is  a 
forest  of  yellow  pine,  the  trees  being  from  fifty  to  sixty 
feet  high.  Then  at  the  7500  foot  line  begins  the  white 
fir  forest. 

Only  the  initiated  expect  to  find  in  the  vicinity  of 
Tucson  what  has  been  called  the  most  interesting  mis 
sion  church  in  America.  Nine  miles  from  the  city  in 
the  desert,  is  San  Xavier  del  Bac,  founded  in  1692  by 
Fra  Eusebius  Kino.  The  present  ornate  building  dates 

136 


ARIZONA'S  COLORFUL  CONTRASTS 

from  1783.  The  descendants  of  the  Papago  Indians, 
for  whom  the  mission  was  begun,  live  in  a  village  near 
by  this  old  Spanish  mission,  whose  interior  is  said 
to  exceed  in  beauty  that  of  any  of  the  missions  on 
the  Pacific  Coast. 

But  Tucson  has  yet  another  claim  to  fame.  On  the 
lower  slope  of  Tumamoc  Hill,  close  to  the  city,  is  the 
Desert  Botanical  Laboratory  of  the  Carnegie  Institu 
tion,  whose  builder  and  director,  D.  T.  MacDougall,  is 
conducting  a  many-sided  study  to  solve  the  mystery  of 
desert  plants.  How  did  the  Indian  live  off  the  desert 
vegetation,  as  he  must  have  lived  in  days  of  old?  Then 
how  can  white  men  follow  this  example?  How  much 
water  do  these  plants  need  for  their  growth?  The 
answer  to  the  last  question  will  be  of  great  help  in 
solving  the  problem  of  irrigation.  Special  objects  of 
investigation  are  the  yucca,  the  prickly  pear,  and  the 
Saguaro  or  giant  cactus,  frequently  more  than  fifty 
feet  high,  whose  dense  clusters  of  whitish  flower  buds 
open  for  a  very  short  time  about  March  25. 

From  the  reservation  of  863  acres  at  Tucson  and  the 
plantation  in  the  Santa  Catalina  Mountains  the  Desert 
Laboratory  is  making  steady  progress  in  the  study  of 
problems  whose  solution  will  make  Arizona  more  than 
ever  the  Queen  of  the  Southwest. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  DONS 

THE  daring  traders  who  sought  Santa  Fe  in 
early  days  in  spite  of  the  frantic  "Thou  shalt 
not!"  of  the  Dons  toiled  over  the  mountains 
through  the  Eaton  Pass  after  passing  from  what  is  now 
Colorado  into  the  storied  province  of  Mexico  that  bor 
dered  on  the  Louisiana  territory.  And  over  the  same 
pass  the  traveler  goes  to-day,  whether  he  uses  the  Santa 
Fe  Eailroad  or  the  delightful  highway  from  Trinidad, 
Colorado,  to  Eaton,  New  Mexico.  This  will  be  found  one 
of  the  most  pleasing  sections  of  the  automobile  road 
from  Cheyenne  to  El  Paso.  Here  and  there  are  re 
minders  of  the  brave  days  of  the  pioneers  when  men 
were  on  their  guard  against  Indians  and  Mexicans,  and 
goods  that  they  finally  succeeded  in  getting  through  the 
gerils  on  the  way  to  Santa  Fe  brought  rich  reward. 
Near  the  summit,  on  the  Colorado  side,  is  one  of  these 
landmarks — the  remnants  of  the  adobe  toll-house  where 
travelers  were  held  up  by  the  lawful  demands  of  a  duly 
accredited  road  agent. 

Among  other  advantages  that  the  highway  has  over 
the  railroad  is  the  continuous  passage  through  the 
exhilarating  open  air,  with  the  vision  of  mountains  and 
valleys  of  Colorado  behind,  uninterrupted  by  the  Eaton 
tunnel,  just  beyond  the  state  line.  After  the  summit  is 
passed,  the  descent  is  rapid  down  the  mountain  side 
leading  well  into  the  state  that  combines  perhaps  more 
than  any  other  the  storied  past  and  the  poetic,  present — 
the  land  of  the  conquistadores,  of  the  cliff  dwellers,  of 

138 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  DONS 

the  Indians ;  of  Mesas  and  pueblos  and  forests ;  of  color 
and  sunshine ;  of  desert  and  fertile  valley ;  of  ruins  of 
centuries  long  gone  and  monuments  of  the  constructive 
genius  of  men  of  to-day :  a  land  of  surprises  wherever 
the  visitor  turns.  And  those  who  seek  New  Mexico 
are  increasing  in  number,  for  people  are  learning  that 
the  state  has  satisfaction  for  the  sightseer,  the  hunter, 
the  fisherman,  the  archa3ologist,  and  the  health-seeker, 
as  well  as  for  the  homemaker  and  the  business  man. 

Colfax  County,  in  which  the  traveler  finds  himself 
as  soon  as  he  passes  Eaton  Summit,  is  reckoned  one  of 
the  smaller  counties  of  the  state,  yet  it  is  much  larger 
than  several  of  the  states  on  the  Atlantic  seaboard.  It 
boasts  a  long  list  of  lofty  peaks,  and  it  has  many  high 
fertile  mesas  where  irrigation  is  unnecessary,  as  well 
as  sections  where  irrigation  works  its  wonted  transfor 
mations.  Much  of  the  construction  work  for  irrigation 
has  been  done  by  the  Maxwell  Land  Grant  Company, 
whose  story  has  been  sketched  in  an  earlier  chapter. 

One  of  the  contrasts  for  which  the  state  is  noted  is 
presented  by  Eaton,  * '  the  Gate  City  of  Mexico, ' '  which 
has  a  speaking  acquaintance  with  the  Eaton  Moun 
tains,  and  Taos,  some  distance  to  the  east.  Those  who 
use  the  railroad  may  seek  Taos  from  Springer,  not  far 
from  Eaton ;  but  those  who  travel  by  automobile  will 
find  a  number  of  approaches  to  the  city  of  the  past  at 
the  foot  of  the  Sangre  de  Cristo  Mountains.  This  haunt 
of  the  artist  is  built  on  a  plateau  above  the  Eio  Grande. 
There  the  old  dwellings  of  the  Indians,  built  on  a  suc 
cession  of  terraces,  reached  by  ladders,  are  all  the  more 
interesting  because,  unlike  the  cliff  dwellings  of  Mesa 
Verde  Park,  they  are  occupied  by  cleanly,  dignified- 

139 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

looking  Indians.  Near  by  are  the  conical  outdoor  ovens 
that  are  a  feature  of  the  New  Mexico  landscape,  and 
within  easy  reach  is  the  old  church  that  dates  back  to 
the  year  when  the  Pilgrims  landed  in  Massachusetts ! 
But  the  pueblo  must  have  been  ancient  then. 

To  the  northeast  of  Taos,  almost  in  the  northeast 
corner  of  the  state,  a  monument  far  older  invites  those 
who  delight  in  relics  of  the  past  as  well  as  in  the  grand 
in  nature.  This  is  Capulin  Mountain,  which  has  been 
called  ' l  the  most  perfect  extinct  volcano  in  America. ' ' 
The  approach  to  it  is  easy  from  several  directions, 
but  is  easiest  from  the  Ocean  to  Ocean  Highway;  this 
passes  within  two  miles  of  the  volcano.  Indeed,  auto 
mobiles  have  no  difficulty  in  going  up  to  the  base  of  the 
mountain  itself.  It  is  so  highly  regarded  both  by  scien 
tists  and  from  a  scenic  point  of  view  that  in  1916  it  was 
set  apart  as  a  National  Monument. 

While  Capulin  is  only  8000  feet  high,  it  presents  an 
impressive  appearance  because  it  rises  1500  feet  above 
the  plain.  It  is  one  of  a  number  of  extinct  volcanoes  in 
the  section,  but  it  is  the  largest  and  most  significant  of 
the  lot.  Cinders  and  lava  and  cemented  breccia  com 
bine  to  form  the  cone  of  the  crater,  which  is  1500  feet  in 
diameter,  and  from  75  feet  to  275  feet  deep. 

Unless  the  traveler  is  proof  against  the  lure  of  the 
side-trip  his  progress  toward  Las  Vegas  and  Santa  Fe 
will  not  be  rapid.  Watrous — just  below  Wagon  Mound, 
a  point  of  note  to  the  wagoners  who  plodded  along  the 
Santa  Fe  trail  because  here  was  a  Mexican  custom  house 
—is  the  gateway  to  Mora  Canyon,  which  offers  in  its 
course  of  fifty  miles  a  foretaste  in  miniature  of  the  de 
lights  of  the  great  canyon  land  of  the  Southwest,  And 
HO 


IN   THE   LAND   OF  THE   DONS 

if  the  traveler  is  eager  for  canyon  scenery  he  can  find 
much  to  please  him  along  the  Eio  Gallinas,  near 
Las  Vegas. 

The  automobile  highway  from  Las  Vegas  to  Santa  Fe 
leads  through  one  of  the  great  national  forests  of  New 
Mexico,  and  from  the  steep  grade  crossing  the  Sangre 
de  Cristo  it  looks  down  on  a  country  rugged,  varied  and 
thoroughly  satisfying.  At  the  end  of  the  route  is 
the  city  with  the  long  name  that  everyone  likes  to  read 
once,  that  no  one  has  time  to  repeat — Ciudad  Eeal  de  la 
Santa  Fe  de  San  Francisco.  No  wonder  they  shortened 
it  to  Santa  Fe! 

On  the  site  were  once  settlements  bearing  other 
names.  There  was  the  pueblo  of  Yuklwungge,  as  the 
Indians  called  it;  surely  Coronado  cannot  be  blamed 
very  much  because  he  transcribed  the  difficult  word 
Yuqueyunge.  Then,  in  1599,  San  Gabriel  followed. 
Santa  Fe  dates  from  1605,  and  this  is,  next  to  St. 
Augustine,  the  oldest  city  in  the  United  States. 

Those  who  view  certain  parts  of  the  city  will  be  apt 
to  agree  that  it  has  not  changed  much  since  Zebulon  M. 
Pike,  who  came  this  way  in  1807  from  Colorado,  by  the 
enforced  invitation  of  the  Mexican  authorities,  said 
that  it  reminded  him,  at  a  distance,  of  a  fleet  of  flat- 
bottomed  Ohio  River  boats. 

While  it  is  true  that  there  are  still  remaining  many 
of  the  low  adobe  buildings  characteristic  of  an  earlier 
age,  some  of  them  full  of  historic  interest — as,  for  in 
stance,  the  palace  where  American  governors  succeeded 
a  long  line  of  Mexican  rulers — there  are  also  more  mod 
ern  buildings  that  bear  witness  to  the  progressiveness  of 
the  people,  who  welcome  strangers  always,  but  never  so 
much  as  when  they  wax  eloquent  about  the  capital  of 

141 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

the  state  in  its  setting  of  mountains  from  10,000  to 
13,000  feet  high. 

Among  the  attractions  offered  by  Santa  Fe  are  the 
incomparable  tours  that  may  be  taken  in  almost  any 
direction  by  automobile.  Twenty-five  miles  west  of 
the  city  is  the  Bandelier  National  Monument,  Mecca 
not  only  of  the  archaeologist  but  of  the  curious  as  well. 
The  22,075  acres  of  land  within  the  Santa  Fe  National 
Forest,  set  apart  here  for  the  pleasure  of  the  people  in 
1916,  include  numerous  canyons  tributary  to  the  Eio 
Grande,  which  in  the  northern  part  of  its  nearly  four- 
hundred-miles  course  through  the  state  is  far  from 
being  the  sluggish  stream  with  comparatively  uninter 
esting  banks  that  becomes  familiar  farther  north. 

But  first  there  is  the  pleasure  of  the  jaunt  from 
Santa  Fe.  Frequently  a  trip  is  endured  merely  for  the 
joy  that  awaits  at  the  end.  Let  no  one  get  the  idea 
that  the  journey  to  Bandelier  is  of  this  description. 
Over  the  varied  plain,  with  sky  of  vivid  blue  above, 
while,  far  ahead,  are  the  mysterious'  hazy  mountains ; 
up  hill  and  down,  over  streams  that  brawl  and  past 
canyons  that  give  a  hint  of  their  hidden  rocks  and  cliffs 
and  cascades !  Then,  unexpectedly,  the  eyes  are  greeted 
by  dwellings  on  the  cliffs,  long  abandoned,  but  still  elo 
quent  of  the  vanished  Indians  who  made  their  homes  in 
these  clefts  of  the  rocks. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  the  dwellings  are 
along  the  Eito  de  los  Frijoles.  There  is  Tyuofii,  the 
house  where  perhaps  two  hundred  families  lived.  On 
all  sides  are  smaller  houses,  and  not  fax  away  is  the  vast 
ceremonial  cave  that  looks  like  an  eye  in  the  face  of  the 
cliff.  To  this  cave  countless  thousands  of  unknown 
Indians  must  have  gone  for  worship  in  the  days  of  no 

142 


IN  THE   LAND   OF  THE   DONS 

one  knows  how  long  ago.  For  when  the  Spanish  ex 
plorers  came  this  way,  there  was  no  more  sign  of  habi 
tation  than  there  is  to-day.  It  is  comparatively  easy 
to  ascend  to  the  cliff  and  to  descend  from  there  to  the 
floor  of  the  cave  where  there  are  hints  that  the  place 
was  the  resort  of  those  who  followed  the  lead  of  their 
priests  in  the  simple  worship  of  the  primitive  man.  As 
the  eyes  look  out  across  to  the  opposite  wall  of  the  can 
yon,  over  the  tree  tops  that  grow  from  the  floor  far 
beneath,  it  is  easy  to  dream  of  those  who  took  the  same 
look  centuries  ago.  But  there  is  no  satisfactory  answer 
for  those  who  ask  who  these  people  were,  or  how  long 
ago  they  lived,  or  why  they  abandoned  the  homes  that 
had  been  fashioned  with  such  infinite  pains,  or  what  was 
the  purpose  of  the  great  Stone  Lions,  each  about  seven 
feet  long,  which  archaeologists  agree  are  among  the  most 
important  specimens  of  aboriginal  sculpture  in  the 
United  States. 

These  Stone  Lions  are  south  of  the  Eito  de  los  Fri- 
joles.  To  the  north  is  the  Pajarito  Canyon,  with  more 
attractions,  and  then  come  half  a  dozen  more  canyons 
which  are  so  crowded  with  reminders  of  the  past  that 
fresh  discoveries  still  wait  for  the  patient  explorer. 

Large  as  are  the  dwellings  of  Bandelier  others  yet 
larger  await  those  who  go  farther  north  to  Chaco  Can 
yon  National  Monument.  A  single  ruin  in  Chaco, 
Pueblo  Bonita,  has  1200  rooms,  and  is  the  largest  ruin 
of  the  kind  known  in  New  Mexico,  Arizona,  Colorado 
or  Utah,  the  home  of  the  cliff  dwellers.  Perhaps  the 
Chaco  Indians  had  some  connection  with  those  who  lived 
in  the  canyons  of  Mesa  Verde  National  Park,  for  the 
distance  between  the  two  is  not  great. 

When  the  visitor  reluctantly  agrees  that  the  time 

143 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

has  come  to  turn  from  Santa  Fe  and  its  excursions  into 
the  canyon  homes  of  the  long-ago  and  the  delightful 
haunts  of  folks  of  to-day,  Albuquerque  is  ready  with 
other  riches  in  the  seemingly  endless  presentation  of 
New  Mexico's  varied  panorama.  Primarily  Albu 
querque  is  a  bustling  business  center;  her  citizens  boast 
that  its  merchants  cover  a  trade  territory  larger  than 
the  six  New  England  States.  But  they  have  time  to  talk 
also  of  their  University  of  New  Mexico,  built  on  a  height 
above  the  city  that  affords  a  view  of  unusual  extent  even 
for  a  state  where  the  air  is  so  clear  and  the  heights 
commanding  boundless  space  so  conveniently  placed 
that  prospects  of  river  and  mountain  and  plain  would 
become  an  old  story  if  they  were  not  so  different  one 
from  the  other.  Think,  for  instance,  of  a  university 
on  a  site  "with  the  Sandia  Mountains  twelve  miles  to 
the  east  for  a  background,  while  the  view  takes  in  the 
Jemez  Mountains,  sixty  miles  north;  the  San  Mateos, 
seventy  miles  west,  and  the  Socorro  and  Magdalenas, 
seventy-five  miles  south;  while  with  the  glass  may  be 
seen  the  Mogollons,  more  than  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  miles  south."  If  the  chief  purpose  of  a  university 
is  to  give  to  a  student  a  broad  outlook,  Albuquerque ?s 
school  at  once  places  other  institutions  under  a  seri 
ous  handicap ! 

Albuquerque  also  has  a  pueblo  all  its  own;  for,  by 
courtesy,  Isleta  may  be  considered  a  suburb  of  the  city 
of  broad  views.  One  of  the  advantages  of  Isleta  is  that 
its  squat  adobe  houses  are  in  plain  sight  from  the  win 
dows  of  the  Santa  Fe  Eailroad  train.  Those  who  wish 
to  see  terraced  houses  must  go  elsewhere,  but  those  who 
are  content  to  look  on  a  village  that  is  on  the  same 
site,  and  many  of  whose  buildings  are  probably  the 

144 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE  DONS 

same,  as  when  Coronado  made  his  visit  in  1540,  will 
find  Isleta  what  they  want.  A  fleeting  glimpse  from  the 
train  or  the  motor  is  better  than  nothing,  but  there  is 
satisfaction  in  stopping  for  an  examination  of  the 
curious  pueblos  and  for  an  interview  with  the  unassum 
ing  governor  who  is  chosen  by  the  votes  of  the  people  of 
the  community  village.  There  is  call  also  for  a  lieuten 
ant-governor,  a  council  of  twenty-five  members,  a  sheriff 
and  a  judge,  whose  decisions  must  be  approved  by  the 
United  States  Indian  Agent.  The  Isletans  are  num 
bered  among  the  thousands  of  Pueblo  Indians  of  the 
state  who  own  nearly  a  million  acres  of  land  and  boast 
of  United  States  citizenship  through  the  operation  of  a 
clause  in  the  treaty  of  Guadeloupe  Hidalgo  in  1848, 
though  they  have  not  the  right  to  vote. 

Laguna,  another  of  the  curious  pueblo  towns,  can 
be  seen  only  after  a  journey  of  two  miles  from  the  rail 
road  station  of  that  name.  But  the  trip  is  worth  while, 
since  it  is  the  first  stage  in  the  absorbingly  interesting 
motor  ride — over  a  rather  rough  road,  it  must  be  owned 
— to  Acoma,  the  pueblo  of  the  pueblos  whose  history  is 
as  romantic  as  anything  in  this  state  of  romance. 

Acoma  pueblo  is  a  series  of  terraced  houses  of  plain 
adobe  construction,  whose  upper  terraces  are  reached 
by  the  customary  ladders.  For  one  thousand  feet  these 
houses  extend  from  end  to  end,  while  they  are  forty  feet 
to  the  highest  terrace.  They  are  built  on  a  precipitous 
rock  three  hundred  and  fifty  feet  above  the  mesa  seven 
thousand  feet  higher  than  the  sea. 

When  the  visitor  is  told  that  the  present  approach 
from  the  plain  to  the  rock  is  easy  when  compared  to 
the  method  of  approach  in  days  when  enemies  were 
about,  he  has  new  respect  for  these  hardy  mountaineers 

10  145 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

whose  ancestors  thought  nothing  of  toiling  up  a  stair 
way  that  must  have  been  as  difficult  as  modern  con 
struction  ladders  to  a  lofty  church  steeple.  That  these 
men  paid  little  heed  to  such  difficulties  is  evident  from 
the  fact  that  the  walls  of  the  church  are  sixty  feet  high 
and  ten  feet  thick,  while  its  timbers  are  forty  feet  long 
and  fourteeen  inches  square.  All  this  material  was 
painstakingly  carried  up  from  the  mesa.  The  length  of 
time  required  for  this  herculean  task  may  be  judged 
from  the  fact  that  forty  years  were  consumed  in  trans 
porting  and  depositing  the  earth  for  the  churchyard. 

Three  miles  from  the  rock  where  the  Acoma  pueblo 
is  situated  is  a  strange  formation  that  stands  out 
from  the  plain  in  curiously  insistent  fashion — the  Mesa 
Encantada,  or  Enchanted  Mesa.  This  inaccessible 
height — so  tradition  says — was1  the  original  site  of 
Acoma.  How  the  Indians  managed  to  ascend  to  its  for 
bidding  summit,  four  hundred  and  thirty  feet  high,  is  a 
problem  that  can  never  have  a  solution.  The  reason  for 
the  abandonment  of  the  fortress  is  equally  an  enigma, 
though  the  always  accommodating  tradition  again  gives 
its  help  by  suggesting  that  the  reason  was  the  fall  of  a 
portion  of  the  cliff  while  the  men  were  absent  on  an 
expedition ;  when  they  returned  and  found  some  of  the 
women  dead  in  the  debris  they  sought  a  site  somewhat 
more  approachable. 

For  many  years  archaeologists  looked  hungrily  at  the 
cliff.  In  1897  one  of  these,  no  longer  able  to  resist  the 
temptation  to  learn  what  relics  of  an  ancient  civiliza 
tion  were  there,  managed  to  reach  the  coveted  goal  by 
the  aid  of  ropes  attached  to  a  smaller  rope  shot  over 
the  rock  by  the  aid  of  a  mortar.  After  the  dangerous 
journey  in  a  boatswain's  chair  he  groaned  in  dismay 

146 


RU1N.S    OF    PECOS    CHURCH,    NEW    MEXICO 


THE    MESA    ENCANTADA,    NEW    MEXICO 


IN  THE  LAND   OF  THE   DONS 

because  the  lofty  surface  was  bare — evidently  the  ele 
ments  had  succeeded  in  destroying  everything  on  that 
exposed  place ;  that  is,  if  there  was  ever  anything  there. 
Later  expeditions  have  shown  more  ingenuity  in  the 
conquest  of  this  supreme  mystery  of  the  mesa,  but 
with  no  result  except  an  experience  unusual  even  for 
mountain  climbers. 

There  is,  perhaps,  a  little  more  satisfaction  for  the 
student  of  history  in  a  side  trip  from  Oallup,  a  Santa  Fe 
railroad  town  near  the  western  border  of  the  state, 
where  Inscription  Eock  led  to  the  setting  apart  of 
El  Morro  National  Monument.  The  road  to  the  reser 
vation  is  over  a  high  plateau,  and  the  journey  makes 
an  appeal  for  its  own  sake,  even  though  four  or  five 
days  are  required,  unless  there  is  an  automobile  in 
volved.  Accommodations  are  scarce,  and  it  is  necessary 
to  camp  out  at  water  holes  along  the  way.  If  the  trip 
becomes  monotonous  it  can  be  broken  by  a  stop  at  Zuni 
pueblo,  attractive  especially  because  of  its  reputation 
of  being  the  oldest  continually  occupied  Pueblo  Indian 
village  in  existence. 

El  Morro  and  Inscription  Eock  are  about  thirty-five 
miles  from  Zuni  and  fifty-five  miles  from  Gallup.  There 
are  really  two  rocks,  though  so  close  together  that  they 
seem  one  from  some  points  of  view.  Both  are  notable 
because  on  the  hard  faces  some  of  the  early  Spanish 
visitors  left  their  autographs,  as  a  record  that  they 
came  this  way.  The  student  of  history  will  always  be 
thankful  that  they  did  what  in  a  traveler  of  to-day  would 
be  an  unpardonable  affront  to  the  monuments  of  nature. 
So  many  latter-day  visitors  to  the  silent  rock  in  the 
midst  of  the  silent  mesa  have  shown  a  desire  to  follow 
the  example  of  the  first  white  visitors  that  the  National 

147 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Park  Commission  has  found  it  necessary  to  build  a 
fence  nearly  a  mile  and  a  half  long  at  the  base  of  the 
rock.  Nominally  this  is  to  keep  cattle  away  from  the 
inscriptions.  But  surely  would-be  marauders  of  an 
other  sort  can  easily  take  the  hint  that  John  Smith 
must  not  attempt  to  register  below  Juan  de  Onate,  the 
founder  of  Santa  Fe,  whose  visit  was  made  in  1606,  Don 
Diego  de  Vargas,  the  Spanish  conqueror  of  the  Pueblo 
Indians  in  1692,  or  the  eighteen  other  Spanish  re 
corders,  the  earliest  of  these  having  written  their 
names  in  1526. 

A  great  cave,  a  bubbling  spring  that  is  a  rarity  in 
this  region,  and  ruins  of  a  pueblo  in  the  walls  of  a  cleft 
in  the  rock,  complete  the  tale  of  the  attractions  of 
El  Morro,  The  Castle. 

In  the  Manzano  National  Forest,  to  the  south  of  Albu 
querque,  is  the  last  of  the  national  monuments  of  New 
Mexico,  Gran  Quivira,  which  may  be  reached  from 
Mountain-air  by  a  stage  trip  of  twenty-four  miles. 
i'here  are  in  this  monument  eighty  acres  of  pueblo 
ruins,  but  the  feature  of  the  monument  that  makes  it 
worth  while  to  those  who  have  seen  other  pueblos  is 
the  ruined  cruciform  church,  about  forty-eight  by  one 
hundred  and  forty  feet.  The  limestone  walls  still  stand 
twenty-five  feet  above  the  ground  and  fifteen  feet  under 
the  present  surface.  This  does  not  mean  that  the 
builders  chose  to  have  such  massive  foundations,  but 
that  the  surface  of  the  ground  is  higher  than  when  the 
church  was  built. 

Yet  it  must  not  be  thought  that  all  the  wonders  of 
New  Mexico  have  been  taken  under  the  fostering  care  of 
the  Government.  There  is  ample  opportunity  for  the 

148 


IN  THE  LAND  OF  THE   DONS 

creation  of  a  dozen  more  national  monuments.   Perhaps 
these,  too,  will  be  fenced  in  some  day. 

In  the  meantime  the  state  has  other  tremendous 
government  monuments  of  a  nature  far  different  from 
any  of  those  named  in  this  chapter.  There  are  the  seven 
National  Forests  with  their  more  than  eight  million 
acres.  And  there  are  the  great  irrigation  projects 
along  the  Pecos  and  the  Eio  Grande.  But  to  tell  of  them 
would  take  a  hook,  just  as  merely  to  see  them  adequately 
would  require  more  than  one  vacation  summer.  But 
what  vacations  these  would  be ! 


CHAPTER  XV 
THE  ALLURING  DESERT 

tt  A  FTEBi  a  month  spent  in  the  desert,  you  will 
/-\      either  love  it  or  loathe  it  for  the  rest  of 
•*•   •**    your  life." 

This  statement  of  Director  D.  T.  MacDougall  of  the 
Desert  Laboratory  at  Tucson,  Arizona,  may  not  mean 
much  to  one  who  has  not  made  close  acquaintance  with 
the  leagues  of  shifting  sand,  of  chaparral  and  sagebrush, 
of  mesquite  and  cactus,  of  mountain  and  arroyo  that 
give  splendid  variety  to  New  Mexico  and  Arizona,  to 
California  and  Utah  and  Nevada,  as  well  as  to  regions 
farther  north.  It  is  easy  for  those  to  talk  disparag 
ingly  of  the  desert  whose  only  knowledge  of  it  is  gained 
by  looking  from  the  window  of  a  Pullman.  But  let 
judgment  wait  until  the  railway  has  been  left  far  be 
hind,  until  days  and  weeks  have  been  spent  beneath  the 
sky  that  never  seemed  so  blue,  until  the  burning  sun 
shows  what  dry  heat  really  is ;  until,  from  beside  the 
campfire,  the  wonderful  vision  is  gained  of  stars  that 
gleam  with  new  brilliance  from  an  expanse  of  sky  so 
vast  that  it  becomes  necessary  to  revise  one's  notions 
of  space ;  of  the  Milky  Way,  whose  name  will  seem  at 
last  the  only  possible  description  of  that  phenomenon 
of  the  heavens ;  of  the  moon,  whose  incandescent  light 
glows  from  an  orb  that  looks  as  if  it  had  been  enlarged 
for  the  occasion.  Let  the  carper  listen  intently  to  the 
message  of  the  silent  stars,  of  the  hovering  mountains, 
of  the  brooding  sands,  of  the  spectral  cactus — and  either 
he  will  be  lonely  ever  after  in  the  crowded  city  street, 
and  will  dream  of  the  alluring  desert  through  the  weary 

150 


THE,  ALLURING  DESERT 

time  he  must  spend  away  from  it,  or,  at  the  first  possible 
moment,  he  will  turn  his  back  on  the  lonely  waste,  seek 
ing  instead  the  bustling  city,  and  will  shudder  in  those 
unwelcome  moments  when  thought  recurs  of  experi 
ences  that  seemed  so  trying.  Yes,  for  the  remainder  of 
his  life,  he  will  either  love  it  or  he  will  loathe  it. 

There  was  a  time  when  everyone  thought  of  the 
deserts  as  a  terrible  barrier  between  the  Missouri  and 
the  Pacific  Ocean.  As  late  as  1842  the  Great  American 
Desert  filled  a  large  place  in  the  imagination  of  the 
people  as  well  as  on  the  map  in  the  school  geographies. 
Little  by  little,  however,  the  bounds  of  the  desert  have 
contracted,  and  for  this  contraction  two  agencies  have 
been  responsible — the  water  that  came  by  irrigation 
and  the  knowledge  that  came  by  investigation.  And 
still  the  limits  of  the  waste  lands  grow  less,  for  what 
that  lover  of  the  desert,  "William  T.  Hornaday,  calls 
"The  Irrepressible  Conflict"  continues  year  by  year — 
"the  great  struggle  between  Man  and  Desert  which  is 
going  on  over  a  wide  empire  of  territory,  stretching 
for  fifteen  hundred  miles  from  Western  Texas  to  the 
Pacific  Ocean." 

But  there  are  sections  of  the  old  desert  that  are  the 
same  to-day  as  they  were  one  hundred  years  ago,  and 
that  will  probably  be  unchanged  for  ages  yet  to  come. 
One  of  these  is  the  salt  basin  of  Nevada  and  Utah,  whose 
elevation  is  about  five  thousand  feet,  where  rivers  lose 
themselves,  where  salt  lakes  find  hospitable  surround 
ings,  and  where  sagebrush  and  greasewood  are  the  only 
vegetation.  This  was  the  region  that  became  so  familiar 
to  the  California  emigrants. 

Glimpses  of  such  a  desert  may  be  gained  from  points 
on  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad,  from  the  windows  of 

151 


SEEING   THE  FAR  WEST 

the  Los  Angeles  and  Salt  Lake  Railroad,  and  from  the 
Tonopah  and  Tidewater  Railroad.  The  latter  road 
approaches  close  to  the  famous  Death  Valley,  that 
curious,  elongated  desert  of  evil  fame  that  lies  between 
the  Funeral  Range  and  the  Panamint  Mountains,  in 
California,  near  the  boundary  of  Southern  Nevada. 

Death  Valley  leads  into  the  Mohave  Desert  of  South 
ern  California,  memorable  for  the  graceful  and  luxu 
riant  tree  yuccas  to  be  found  in  abundance  to  the  west 
of  El  Cajon  Pass.  Frequently  they  are  from  fifteen  to 
twenty-five  feet  high  and  from  one  to  two  feet  in  diame 
ter.  The  juniper  tree  and  the  creosote  bush  in  their 
turn  help  to  make  the  appeal  of  the  Mohave  landscape. 

The  Colorado  Desert,  farther  south,  extending  from 
California  into  Arizona,  offers  a  delightful  surprise  in 
the  groves  of  native  fan-leaved  palms  that  grow  luxu 
riantly  in  canyons  of  a  spur  of  the  San  Bernardino 
Mountains.  Many  of  the  trees  are  two  feet  in  diameter 
and  fifteen  feet  high.  There  is  just  enough  rainfall  in 
the  canyons  and  on  the  mountains  above  them  to  provide 
the  small  amount  of  moisture  needed  for  the  growth  of 
the  trees,  perhaps  three  inches  a  year.  The  oases  where 
the  palm  trees  grow  are  a  pleasing  reminder  of  the 
park-like  uplands  near  Santiago,  Cuba. 

Farther  out  in  the  desert  the  clay  that  holds  the 
moisture  for  the  palm  trees  gives  way  to  sand,  sand  that 
is  driven  by  the  western  wind  in  a  fashion  that  seems 
trying  until  the  disagreeable  feature  is  forgotten  in  the 
examination  of  the  telegraph  poles  that  are  soon  almost 
cut  through  close  to  the  ground,  and  the  creosote  bushes 
that  are  twisted  most  weirdly. 

Those  who  cannot  go  far  into  the  desert,  yet  long 
to  see  some  of  the  desert's  attractions  at  their  best,  have 

152 


SOUTH    FRONT   SAN   BERNARDINO    RANGE,    SHOWING    DESERT    VEGETATION, 
SAN   GORGONIO   PASS,    CALIFORNIA 


<:  •^.^••••v^>vV:«w  - 

£*•-  * g :  ".*„.-**%;  -„-  -;^-> ;- ^-   ;. '  *  :  ^  •  >.  •. 

,.^.;-;->^  —  -,-  '^^^ 


IN    THE    ARIZONA    DESERT 


THE   ALLURING   DESERT 

provision  made  for  them  by  the  government.  Nine 
miles  from  Phoenix,  Arizona,  reached  by  a  substantial 
automobile  road,  several  thousand  acres  have  been  set 
aside  as  the  Papago  Saguaro  National  Monument.  Here 
the  yucca  palm,  the  prickly  pear,  the  great  cactus  (the 
Saguaro),  and  other  forms  of  desert  flora  grow  in 
abundance.  The  Saguaro  frequently  reaches  a  height 
of  thirty  or  thirty-five  feet,  and  has  a  number  of 
branches  near  the  top  that  grow  from  the  main  stalk 
like  the  arms  of  a  candelabrum.  Sometimes  the  Saguaro 
has  saved  the  lives  of  those  left  without  water  in  the 
desert ;  it  contains  much  sap,  though  this  is  rather  bit 
ter.  Those  experienced  in  desert  phenomena  much 
prefer  to  find  in  their  extremity  a  specimen  of  the 
barrel-like  Bisnaga  cactus.  W.  T.  Hornaday,  in  one  of 
his  volumes  of  travel,  told  of  the  method  of  extracting 
water  from  the  Bisnaga.  First  the  top  was  cut  off. 
The  white  pulpy  interior  was  then  open  to  view.  A 
pounding-stick  was  cut  from  a  near-by  plant.  With  this 
a  number  of  the  party  "  began  to  attack  the  central 
surface  of  the  decapitated  Bisnaga,  and  white  bits  of 
cactus-meat  began  to  fly  like  sparks  from  an  anvil. 
Several  handfuls  of  the  pulp  were  lost  because  there 
was  nothing  to  contain  them;  but  presently  a  cavity 
began  to  form.  In  this  the  meat  was  pounded  to  a 
pulpy  mass,  and  in  it  water  began  to  appear.  The  man 
whose  hands  were  the  cleanest  was  invited  to  take  out 
some  of  the  water-logged  pulp  and  wash  from  his  hands 
the  deposit  of  desert  drift;  which  was  done.  Then  he 
proceeded  to  squeeze  the  pulp  between  the  hands  and 
throw  it  away.  By  alternate  squeezings  and  poundings 
about  three  pints  of  white  water  soon  were  accumulated, 
and  we  were  invited  to  step  up  in  orthodox  fashion  and 

153 


SEEING   THE  FAR   WEST 

drink  out  of  our  hands,  as  do  lost  men  in  the  desert. 
The  water  was  surprisingly  cool,  a  trifle  sweet,  and  in 
flavor  like  the  finest  kind  of  raw  turnip. " 

How  does  the  plant  secrete  so  much  water  in  such  a 
barren  region?  Like  all  great  cacti,  its  many  roots 
spread  out  in  every  direction  for  fifty  feet  or  more. 
They  are  very  close  to  the  surface  of  the  sand — so  close 
that  they  drink  in  every  drop  of  moisture  that  comes 
within  reach.  Through  the  roots  the  water  is  sent  up 
to  the  pulpy  storehouse  in  the  body  of  the  plant. 

An  old  miner,  George  W.  Parsons,  who  trudged  for 
years  over  the  deserts,  has  done  more  for  the  thirsty 
traveler  than  all  the  Bisnagas  that  grow.  He  had  a 
vision  of  signposts  wherever  desert  wayfarers  might 
find  themselves,  to  point  the  way  unerringly  to  springs 
and  water  holes  that  are  often  within  a  few  yards  of 
those  whose  lives  are  needlessly  lost.  For  fifteen 
years  he  talked  of  this  vision.  Finally  the  authorities 
were  interested,  an  appropriation  was  made  by  Con 
gress,  and,  with  the  help  of  the  United  States  Geologi 
cal  Survey,  Mr.  Parsons  was  privileged  to  begin  work 
in  1916,  the  object  being  to  ' '  develop,  protect  and  render 
more  accessible  for  the  benefit  of  the  general  public, 
springs,  streams,  and  water  holes  on  arid  public  lands 
of  the  United  States,  and  in  connection  therewith  to 
erect  and  maintain  suitable  monuments  and  signboards 
at  proper  places  and  at  intervals  along  and  near  the 
accustomed  lines  of  travel." 

The  first  signpost  was  erected  at  the  point  where 
the  desert  road  to  Parker,  Arizona,  leaves  the  main 
Pho3nix-Yuma  road.  Hundreds  of  other  signposts  have 
been  placed  in  Southern  California  and  Arizona,  in  the 
Colorado  Desert,  the  Mohave  Desert,  Death  Valley,  and 

154 


THE  ALLURING   DESERT 

west  of  Tucson  and  Phrenix.  Ultimately  it  is  intended 
to  cover  the  entire  arid  area  of  the  country,  more  than 
half  a  million  square  miles. 

Mr.  Parsons,  in  telling  jubilantly  of  the  results  of 
the  first  year's  work  in  fulfilment  of  his  dream,  wrote  of 
his  anticipation  of  the  day  when  there  can  no  longer 
exist  the  awful  conditions  here  set  forth : 

Noon.  Into  the  unshaded  wilderness  the  mounted 
sun  pours  his  intolerable  rays,  making  the  thin  air 
dance.  Myriad  infinitesimal  shadows  lie  shrunken  in 
under  the  innumerable  clumps  of  brush — even  the  gray- 
backed  lizards  have  ceased  their  darting  and  sought 
shelter  from  the  mid-day  blaze.  Nothing  moves.  Noth 
ing  disturbs  this  desolation  of  silence  but  a  lost  man, 
crazed,  bareheaded,  semi-blinded,  moaning  for  water, 
water,  in  that  scorched  and  barren  waste.  Anguish  of 
thirst,  the  like  of  which  may  be  only  once  endured,  has 
drawn  back  his  lips  and  the  sun  has  cracked  and  baked 
them.  His  blackened  tongue  protrudes.  Crouched  in 
the  desert  there  drifts  to  his  dying  ears  the  music  of 
splashing  waters ;  to  his  dimming  eyes  appears  a  per 
fect  vision  of  fountains  and  marble  fonts  and  fern- 
embowered  shade — and  oh,  it  is  so  near!  Leaping, 
uttering  delirious  sounds,  stopping  to  divest  himself, 
now  of  one  frayed  garment,  now  of  another,  naked  he 
runs  to  cast  himself  into  his  Eden  of  moisture,  into 
his  palace  of  shadows,  and  stumbles  into  the  Paradise 
of  the  grave. 

Those  who  know  their  desert  tell  another  romance 
of  the  waterless  sand  wastes — the  story  of  the  camel 
corps,  General  Edward  F.  Beale's  scheme  for  the  trans 
port  of  army  supplies.  His  thought  was  that  there  was 
little  water  to  be  found ;  that  camels  need  little  water ; 
so  why  should  not  camels  be  the  solution  of  one  of  our 
desert  difficulties? 

155 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

The  idea  came  to  him  while  he  was  crossing  Death 
Valley,  in  company  with  Kit  Carson.  That  hardy  fron 
tiersman  was  not  enthusiastic  when  the  plan  was  out 
lined,  but  when  General  Beale  went  to  Washington  to 
propose  it,  his  reception  was  different.  Jefferson 
Davis,  who  was  the  Secretary  of  War,  felt  that  the 
proposed  camel  corps  might  be  practical. 

An  appropriation  was  secured,  and  in  1856  two  ship 
loads  of  camels  were  brought  from  Tunis  to  Indianola, 
Texas.  The  camels  were  duly  taken  to  the  desert. 
General  Beale  reported  to  the  War  Department  that 
they  did  their  work  well,  but  the  soldiers  who  drove 
them  were  not  so  sure.  One  who  wrote  of  the  com 
plaints  made  of  the  camels  said : 

He  could  travel  sixteen  miles  an  hour.  Abstractly, 
this  was  a  virtue;  but  when  camp  was  struck  in  the 
evening  and  he  was  turned  loose  to  sup  upon  the  suc 
culent  sagebrush,  either  to  escape  the  noise  and  pro 
pinquity  of  the  camp  or  to  view  the  country,  he  was 
always  seized  with  a  desire  to  take  a  pasear  of  twenty- 
five  or  thirty  miles  before  supper.  While  this  took  only 
an  hour  or  two  of  his  time,  it  involved  upon  his  unfor 
tunate  driver  the  necessity  of  spending  half  the  night 
in  camel  chasing;  for  if  he  was  not  rounded  up  there 
was  a  delay  of  half  the  next  day  in  starting  the  caravan. 
He  could  carry  a  ton — this  was  a  commendable  virtue— 
but  when  two  heavily  laden  " ships  of  the  desert"  col 
lided  in  a  narrow  track,  as  they  always  did  when  an 
opportunity  offered,  and  tons  of  supplies  were  scattered 
over  miles  of  plain  and  the  unfortunate  pilots  had  to 
gather  up  the  flotsam  of  the  wreck,  it  is  not  strange  that 
the  mariners  of  the  arid  wastes  anathematized  the  whole 
camel  race  from  the  beast  the  prophet  rode  down  to  the 
smallest  imp  of  Jefferson  Davis '  importation. 

156 


THE  ALLURING   DESERT 

The  complaints  were  so  many  and  so  vigorous  that, 
when  the  absence  of  Jefferson  Davis  from  the  Cabinet 
left  General  Beale  the  sole  defender  of  the  camel 
against  the  mule,  which  the  soldiers  declared  was  the 
only  dependable  beast  of  burden,  the  ships  of  the  desert 
were  condemned  and  sold — all  except  those  that  strayed 
away  from  the  army  posts.  For  many  years  the  wan 
dering  animals  were  seen  here  and  there  in  Arizona 
and  New  Mexico,  and  to  this  day  there  are  whispers 
of  the  appearance  of  some  lonely  specimen  so  far  away 
that  it  is  difficult  to  tell  whether  the  sight  is  real 
or  imaginary. 

To-day  there  is  something  better  than  a  camel  in  the 
desert — the  automobile  routes  of  travel  are  plainly 
marked,  and  difficulties  are  not  great.  The  Secretary 
of  the  Utah  Stata  Automobile  Association  calls  atten 
tion  to  the  fact  that  the  automobilist  knows  ' '  there  are 
long  stretches  of  country  with  nothing  but  sagebrush 
and  jack  rabbits";  but  he  adds  that  the  tourist  "also 
knows  that  as  a  general  rule  he  will  make  more  miles 
per  day  than  over  any  other  section  of  the  United  States 
where  the  roads  are  not  improved." 

Those  who  would  leave  the  beaten  tracks  need  to  be 
careful,  but  their  care  will  be  wonderfully  rewarded. 
Those  who  have  a  constitutional  inability  to  be  careful 
should  follow  the  advice  given  in  the  Geological  Sur 
vey's  Water  Supply  Paper  No.  225 : 

"With  some  persons  the  faculty  of  getting  lost 
amounts  to  genius.  They  are  able  to  accomplish  it 
wherever  they  are.  The  only  suitable  advice  for  them 
is  to  keep  out  of  the  desert.  There  are  safe  places  in 
which  to  exercise  their  talent. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
WHERE    MONTANA  HISTORY   WAS    MADE 

NEAJ3  the  point  where  the  Northern  Pacific  Kail- 
road  approaches  the  Yellowstone  Eiver  from 
the  east,  at  Glendive,  in  Eastern  Montana, 
Lewis  and  Clark  had  one  of  the  unique  experiences  of 
the  return  trip  from  the  Pacific  in  1806.    The  party  of 
explorers  was  descending  the  river  in  boats  when  they 
were  compelled  to  pause  while  a  herd  of  buffalo,  esti 
mated  to  contain  80,000  head,  crossed  the  river. 

To  the  north  of  Glendive  forty  thousand  acres  of 
Montana  land  have  been  irrigated  by  the  Lower  Yellow 
stone  Project  of  the  Eeclamation  Service.  The  high 
way  that  follows  the  river  affords  a  satisfying  view  of 
the  work  done  and  the  results  achieved,  and  so  fur 
nishes  a  good  introduction  to  Montana  for  those  who 
have  thought  of  the  state  as  anything  but  an  empire 
of  fertile  lands. 

In  many  places  sagebrush  and  cottonwood  as  feat 
ures  of  the  landscape  have  given  way  to  grain  and 
alfalfa  and  sugar  beets.  Even  on  the  old  sheep  ranges 
of  the  regions  farther  down  the  Yellowstone,  dry  farm 
ing  has  made  the  land  so  profitable  for  agriculture  that 
the  sheep  herders,  whose  flocks  once  contained  as  many 
as  forty  thousand  animals,  have  taken  their  departure. 
Soon  the  only  reminder  of  them  will  be  the  many  pyra 
mids  of  flat  stones,  built  by  the  herders  to  relieve  the 
tedium  of  their  lonely  life.  Specimens  of  these  pyra 
mids  are  visible  from  the  river  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Hysham,  not  far  from  Billings. 

158 


WHERE   MONTANA   HISTORY   WAS   MADE 

Both  Billings  and  Bozeman  have  the  distinction  of 
being  in  the  midst  of  some  of  the  finest  land  in  the  state. 
Captain  Clark  told  of  visiting,  in  1806,  the  sites  on 
which  these  towns  have  since  been  built.  The  explorer  's 
enthusiastic  account  of  the  beautiful  Gallatin  Valley  is 
responsible  for  the  fact  that  the  region  of  Bozeman  was 
settled  long  before  many  other  parts  of  the  state,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  it  was  far  from  the  route  of  the 
emigrant,  and  is  surrounded  by  majestic  mountains. 

After  leaving  the  valley  of  the  Yellowstone  the  rail 
road  still  shows  the  way  to  valleys  of  astounding  fer 
tility.  Famous  Deer  Lodge  Valley  is  first  seen  a  few 
miles  after  Butte  is  left  behind.  Other  attractive  valleys 
lie  between  Deer  Lodge  and  the  Flathead  Indian  Reser 
vation,  far  to  the  north  of  Missoula,  where  150,000  acres 
of  land  are  to  be  made  productive  by  the  Reclamation 
Service.  Surrounded  as  they  are  by  lofty  mountains, 
these  lands  of  the  Indians  are  among  the  most  attractive 
in  the  state.  The  peaks  of  the  Mission  Range  are  before 
those  who  approach  the  Reservation  from  the  south, 
and  beautiful  Flathead  Lake  is  near  at  hand.  From 
Missoula  a  stage  road  leads  north,  directly  along  the 
western  shore  of  the  lake,  passing,  on  the  way,  a  cor 
ner  of  the  Montana  National  Bison  Range,  where 
seventy-five  buffalo  long  had  the  run  of  thirty  square 
miles  of  mountain  and  prairie. 

All  along  the  route  from  Glendive  to  the  northwest 
ern  border  of  Montana  there  is  surpassing  interest  for 
the  geologist.  He  will  pause  to  look  curiously  at  Signal 
Butte,  near  Miles  City  on  the  Yellowstone,  which  is 
in  plain  sight  either  from  the  railroad  or  from  the 
highway.  Officers  from  Fort  Keogh  once  resorted  to 
this  butte  when  they  wished  to  send  a  heliograph  mes- 

159 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

sage  to  the  Black  Hills,  175  miles  away,  or  to  receive 
word  from  those  who  signaled  from  there.  The  butte 
is  a  part  of  the  curious  Lance  formation  which  has  been 
so  fruitful  for  the  skeleton  hunters  from  the  museums, 
yielding,  among  other  things,  skeletons  of  the  Tricera- 
tops,  a  curious  creature  with  three  horns.  The  skeleton 
in  the  National  Museum  at  Washington  is  twenty  feet 
long  and  eight  feet  high.  Then  there  was  the  Tyranno- 
saurus,  or  giant  lizard,  which  was  forty  feet  long  and 
when  standing  on  its  hind  legs  was  perhaps  eighteen 
feet  tall.  A  mounted  skeleton  in  the  American  Museum 
of  Natural  History,  New  York,  shows  what  must  have 
been  the  general  appearance  of  this  lizard  of  the  Mon 
tana  Bad  Lands. 

But  perhaps  in  these  days  of  agricultural  develop 
ment  the  most  interesting  geologic  feature  of  Montana 
is  a  few  miles  beyond  Helena,  where,  under  thousands 
of  acres,  lies  a  bed  four  feet  thick  of  rich  phosphate 
rock.  Yet  it  is  estimated  by  the  United  States  Geologi 
cal  Survey  that  this  deposit  is  not  much  more  than  one- 
thousandth  part  of  the  beds  in  Montana,  Idaho,  Wyom 
ing  and  Utah!  Surely  there  is  not  much  danger  of  a 
phosphate  famine  in  this  country. 

It  has  been  one  of  the  problems  of  the  amateur 
geologist  to  decide  why  the  name  Yellowstone  was  given 
to  the  river  that  flows  from  Yellowstone  Park.  The 
traveler  naturally  looks  for  yellow  rocks  along  the  river 
bank,  but  he  will  not  find  them  until  he  enters  the  can 
yon  of  the  Yellowstone  in  the  Park  itself.  The  proba 
bility  is  that  the  Indians,  who  alone,  until  comparatively 
recent  years,  knew  of  the  wonders  of  the  canyon,  were 
the  first  to  give  the  name  to  the  river. 

For  centuries  the  Indians  were  the  sole  voyagers 

160 


WHERE   MONTANA   HISTORY   WAS   MADE 

along  this  stream.  Then  came  the  years  when  white 
men  and  the  Indians  shared  the  perils  of  the  voyage. 
In  1835,  George  Catlin,  the  celebrated  artist,  was  a  pas 
senger  on  a  Missouri  River  steamer  that  threaded  these 
waters.  On  board  with  him  were  a  number  of  Indians 
who  were  returning  to  their  home  near  the  Pacific  Ocean 
after  an  overland  journey  to  St.  Louis.  Fortunately 
Catlin  painted  two  of  the  Indians,  Ta-wis-sis-sim-nin 
(No-Horns-on-His-Head)  and  Hi-youts-to-han  (Rabbit- 
Skin  Leggings).  Those  who  would  make  acquaintance 
with  natives  of  that  early  day  have  only  to  go  to  a 
library  and  examine  pictures  numbered  145  and  146 
in  the  Catlin  collection. 

During  the  early  years  of  steamboat  navigation  in 
Montana  most  of  the  voyages  were  made  up  the  Mis 
souri,  but  there  were  those  who  felt  that  the  Yellow 
stone  route  to  Western  Montana  was  preferable.  In 
1875  Captain  Marsh,  on  the  steamer  Josephine,  pushed 
his  way  to  the  mouth  of  the  Big  Horn.  There  the 
effort  was  made  to  build  a  town  which  should  be  the 
transfer  point  for  those  desiring  to  take  goods  to 
Bozeman.  A  few  months  earlier  Bozeman  citizens  had 
sent  an  expedition  to  the  head  of  navigation  for  the 
purpose  of  opening  a  wagon-road.  The  expedition 
traveled  six  hundred  miles  during  six  months ;  had  four 
fights  with  the  Indians ;  lost  three  men  and  thirty-seven 
horses ;  killed  about  fifty  Indians  and  wounded  nearly 
one  hundred  more. 

The  projectors  of  Fort  Pease,  the  name  given  to  the 
settlement  at  the  head  of  navigation,  also  had  their  diffi 
culties  with  hostile  Sioux.  After  standing  siege  as  long 
as  they  could,  they  sent  an  appeal  for  help  to  Fort  Ellis, 
near  Bozeman.  Finally,  in  March,  1876,  help  came,  and 

11  161 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Fort  Pease  was  abandoned.  Three  months  later,  at  a 
point  not  many  miles  south  of  the  mouth  of  the  Big 
Horn,  General  Custer,  with  every  officer  and  man  in  five 
companies,  was  killed  by  the  Sioux,  under  the  leader 
ship  of  Sitting  Bull.  On  the  site  of  the  battle  is  a 
National  Cemetery  where  lie  the  bodies  of  265  soldiers. 

After  the  battle,  Captain  Marsh,  who  was  then  at 
the  mouth  of  the  Big  Horn  with  the  steamer  Far  West, 
raced  to  Bismarck  with  fifty-two  wounded  men,  sur 
vivors  of  General  Terry's  battle,  fought  near  by  on  the 
same  day.  The  trip  of  710  miles  was  made  in  54  hours ! 

The  country  near  by  is  full  of  reminders  of  the  fatal 
Custer  campaign.  From  Miles  City  to  Eosebud  the 
Northern  Pacific  follows  the  route  taken  by  Custer  on 
his  way  to  the  fatal  field.  Sixty  miles  from  Eosebud 
is  the  town  of  Custer,  another  commemoration  of  that 
day  of  death  in  1876 ;  from  here  travelers  in  early  days 
left  the  river  for  Fort  Custer,  to  the  south. 

Five  miles  from  Custer,  at  Big  Horn,  General  Clark 
passed  in  1806.  But  the  most  historic  of  the  spots  where 
he  stopped  is  Pompey's  Pillar,  a  little  farther  west. 
Attracted  by  the  great  sandstone  rock,  Clark  carved 
his  name  on  its  face : 

"Wm.  Clark,  July  25,  1806." 

Since  his  visit  many  have  followed  his  example,  espe 
cially  steamboatmen  and  soldiers,  and  now  the  rock  car 
ries  numberless  other  inscriptions.  A  grating  covers 
the  most  historic  inscription  of  all,  so  that  relic 
hunters  are  prevented  from  exercising  their  destruc 
tive  tendencies. 

In  1860  the  Pillar  once  again  became  a  historic  spot, 
for  in  that  year  a  member  of  the  Eeynolds  Yellowstone 

162 


WHERE   MONTANA   HISTORY   WAS   MADE 

Exploring  Expedition  observed  a  solar  eclipse  from  the 
summit.  Then  on  June  3,  1875,  Captain  Marsh  of  the 
Josephine  climbed  the  rock,  erected  a  staff,  bent  a  flag 
to  the  breeze,  and  left  it  there.  First,  however,  he 
carved  his  name  and  the  date  on  the  cliff. 

Other  sandstone  cliffs  in  the  neighborhood  were 
asked  to  bear  the  records  of  explorers  and  trappers. 
In  1863  Henry  Bostwick,  a  member  of  the  Yellowstone 
Exploring  Expedition  of  that  year,  finding  a  tempting 
rock  near  the  mouth  of  the  Big  Horn,  proceeded  to 
make  himself  famous: 

I  also  engraved  my  name,  with  the  date,  on  a  sand 
stone  about  three-fourths  of  a  mile  above  camp.  It 
will  stay  there  for  ages,  and  if  I  perish  on  this  expe 
dition,  I  have  left  my  mark. 

After  the  Yellowstone  is  left  behind  both  railroad 
and  highway  pass  on  to  Three  Forks,  where  three  rivers 
unite  to  form  the  Missouri  River.  When  General  Clark 
was  here  he  named  the  western  branch  for  President 
Jefferson,  the  middle  branch  for  James  Madison,  then 
Secretary  of  State,  and  the  eastern  branch  for  Albert 
Gallatin,  then  Secretary  of  the  Treasury.  Mountains 
almost  surround  the  valley  of  union,  rising  from  two  to 
four  thousand  feet  above  the  plain,  which  is  itself  about 
four  thousand  feet  high.  The  valley  where  the  streams 
unite  is  from  fifteen  to  twenty  miles  in  diameter. 

From  Three  Eivers  to  Fort  Benton,  the  early 
head  of  navigation  on  the  Missouri,  is  two  hundred  and 
fifty  miles.  And  Fort  Benton  is  twenty-nine  hundred 
miles  from  St.  Louis!  The  way  leads  now  through 
comparatively  level  valleys,  again  through  Black  Eock 
Canyon,  where  the  river  narrows  to  half  its  former 

163 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

width,  and  distant  less  than  twenty  miles  from  Helena, 
Later,  on  either  side,  are  steep  turreted  and  pinnacled 
walls,  five  miles  of  them,  from  six  hundred  to  a  thousand 
feet  high.  This  is  White  Eock  Canyon,  which  Lewis  and 
Clark  called  l '  the  Gates  of  the  Mountains. ' '  From  this 
point  for  thirty-six  miles,  the  river  is  within  the  moun 
tains.  Then  come  the  falls,  and  the  descent  to  Fort 
Bent  on — the  last  stage  in  a  stretch  of  river  that  well 
deserves  to  be  famous. 

The  first  view  of  the  Rockies  that  make  the  upper 
Missouri  Eiver  scenery  so  fascinating  is  gained  from 
a  point  near  Billings,  one  hundred  and  ninety  miles 
to  the  east.  On  a  clear  day  the  peaks  near  the  entrance 
to  Yellowstone  Park  can  be  seen,  though  they  are  more 
than  one  hundred  miles  distant.  From  the  first  moun 
tains  are  almost  always  in  sight — mountains  some  of 
them  with  strange  names  like  the  Crazy  Mountain,  once 
the  Crazy  Woman  Mountain,  first  visible  from  a  point 
more  than  fifty  miles  from  Billings ;  and  the  Absaroka 
Eange,  forty  miles  farther  west.  That  name  is  ex 
plained  in  Hanson's  account  of  Custer's  defeat.  He 
says  that  the  first  news  of  the  disaster  was  made  known 
to  a  party  on  the  river  by  a  Crow  Indian  who  shouted 
dismally,  ' l  Absaroka !  Absaroka ! "  "  That  means  sol 
diers!"  explained  Captain  Marsh,  one  of  the  party. 
But  an  explorer  of  1863  declared  just  as  positively  that 
the  word  ' '  Upsaroka ' '  meant t i  Crow  Indians. ' '  Can  it 
be  that  there  is  no  more  difference  between  a  white 
man  and  an  Indian  than  there  is  between  "Ups" 
and"Abs"? 

Both  railroad  and  highway  on  this  route  lead  into 
canyons  of  all  sorts  and  sizes,  but  all  alluring,  even 

164 


WHERE    MONTANA   HISTORY    WAS   MADE 

while  they  are  forbidding.  There  is  Eocky  Canyon, 
near  Bozeman,  which  leads  to  Gallatin  Valley,  and  Hell 
Gate  Canyon,  with  its  walls  of  red,  which  leads  from 
the  Deer  Lodge  Valley  to  Missoula.  Here  the  Indians 
filed  across  the  mountains,  when  they  sought  the  buf 
falo,  or  when  they  were  on  the  warpath,  and  here  the 
first  trappers  and  emigrants  followed  where  they  had 
shown  the  way.  For  this  reason  the  French  trader 
called  the  Missoula  entrance  to  the  canyon  Porte 
d'Enfer,  or  Hell  Gate.  Through  this  canyon  went  Lieu 
tenant  John  Mullan,  who  was  commissioned  by  the 
War  Department  to  build  a  road  from  Walla  Walla  to 
Fort  Benton.  The  story  of  that  road  is  one  of  the  epics 
of  western  pioneering. 

In  March,  1859,  Congress  appropriated  the  first 
$100,000  for  the  construction  of  the  road.  Laboriously 
Lieutenant  Mullan  guided  his  corps  of  men  over  the 
mountains,  cutting  his  way  through  forests,  threading 
canyons  and  climbing  along  mountain  paths,  frequently 
making  explorations  on  either  side  of  the  road  for  a 
distance  of  many  score  miles.  Twenty  miles  east  of  Hel 
ena  he  crossed  the  Divide  through  Mullan  Pass,  where 
the  Northern  Pacific  has  followed  him.  In  all  624  miles 
of  road  were  built.  l '  We  cut  through  120  miles  of  dense 
forest  a  width  of  thirty  feet, ' '  the  pioneer  wrote ;  ' 1 150 
miles  through  open  pines,  and  thirty  miles  of  excava 
tion  in  earth  and  rock,  occupying  a  period  of  five  years, 
and  at  a  cost  of  $230,000. " 

In  some  places  grass  was  plentiful,  but  there  were 
many  other  places  where  none  grew.  So  the  road- 
builder  sent  to  St.  Louis  for  twenty-five  bushels  of 
blue  grass  seed,  which  he  sowed  "broadcast  over  the 
ground  and  through  the  woods,  and  over  the  prairies, 

165 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

at  such  points  as  were  likely  to  be  selected  as  camp 
ing  grounds." 

The  road  was  never  much  used  for  military  pur 
poses,  but  emigrants  found  it  convenient.  The  builder 
wrote  a  guide-book  for  travelers,  telling  them  of  the 
road  in  detail,  pointing  out  the  fact  that  forty-seven 
days  should  be  allowed  for  the  distance  between  Fort 
Benton  and  Walla  Walla. 

When  the  Mullan  road-builders  toiled  along  the  river 
valleys  they  discovered  gold  in  many  places,  but  they 
were  too  busy  with  other  duties  to  heed  the  yellow  metal. 
Soon,  however,  men  came  who  had  no  purpose  but  to 
seek  gold.  In  May,  1862,  the  first  discovery  was  made, 
and  a  little  later  four  steamboats  landed  emigrants  and 
mining  tools  at  Fort  Benton.  This  was  before  the  organ 
ization  of  Montana  Territory,  or  even  Idaho  Territory ; 
Idaho  dates  from  1863,  and  not  until  1864  was  Montana 
set  aside.  By  that  time  lawlessness  had  become  so 
great  in  many  gold  centers  that  a  central  government 
was  needed. 

Sites  of  some  of  the  early  gold  discoveries  may  be 
visited  easily.  In  the  Prickly  Pear  Canyon,  seven 
miles  from  Helena — near  the  present  delightful  canyon 
road  that  leads  from  the  Missouri  River  to  the  city — 
were  rich  placers.  Bannock  and  Deer  Lodge  mark 
later  discoveries. 

Grasshopper  Diggings  was  not  far  from  Alder 
Gulch,  the  site  of  another  bonanza.  There  a  town  was 
founded  which,  at  first,  was  named  Varina,  in  honor 
of  Mrs.  Jefferson  Davis.  But  Varina  is  not  now  on  the 
map,  though  the  town  is  there.  The  name  was  soon 
changed  because  a  resident  who  was  asked  to  draw  up 
some  legal  papers  absolutely  refused  to  write  the  name 

166 


V. 


*J 

«*••? 


POMPEY  S    PILLAR,    MONTANA 


CABINET    GORGE,    IDAHO 


WHERE   MONTANA  HISTORY   WAS   MADE 

Varina;  instead  he  wrote  Virginia  City.  So  Virginia 
City  it  was  when  the  town  became  the  first  capital  of 
the  territory,  and  Virginia  City  it  is  to  this  day. 

The  organization  of  the  territory  put  an  end  to  the 
most  unsatisfactory  conditions  existing  when  there  were 
hundreds  of  lawless  men,  such  as  always  gathered  with 
the  law-abiding  men  at  a  pioneer  mining  camp.  After 
the  organization  of  Idaho,  eighteen  months  passed  be 
fore  the  first  copy  of  the  laws  was  received  at  the  gold 
diggings  of  Southwest  Montana,  and  by  that  time  the 
new  territory  had  been  set  apart  by  Congress.  Then 
it  was  no  longer  possible  for  bodies  of  miners  to  get 
together  and  agree — as  did  one  party  of  prospectors 
in  1863,  according  to  the  testimony  of  the  leader — that 
each  member  of  the  party,  as  discoverers,  should  be 
1 '  entitled  to  two  claims  of  two  hundred  feet  each  along 
the  gulch — viz.,  a  discovery  claim,  and  a  pre-emption 
claim  in  the  main  gulch,  a  bar  claim,  a  hill  claim,  and 
a  patch  claim. "  After  telling  of  this  generous  pro 
vision,  the  recorder  added,  honestly,  "I  never  knew 
what  a  patch  claim  was,  but  I  think  that  it  meant  all 
you  could  grab,  after  you  got  the  other  four  claims." 

When  gold  was  discovered  near  Helena  in  1864  the 
growth  of  the  new  city  was  so  rapid  that  within  two 
years  the  town  had  a  population  of  7500.  Within  four 
years  sixteen  million  dollars'  worth  of  gold  had 
been  been  taken  from  Last  Chance  Gulch  in  Prickly 
Pear  Canyon. 

Copper  has  long  taken  the  place  of  gold  as  the  chief 
mineral  product  of  Montana,  and  the  smelters  of  Butte 
and  Anaconda  and  Great  Falls  rival  in  interest  the 
mountains  and  the  canyons  of  the  western  part  of 
the  state. 

167 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

After  the  rich  copper  region  is  left  behind  the  glories 
of  valley  and  summit  once  more  have  chief  claim  to  the 
attention  of  the  visitor.  The  highway  from  Helena, 
after  leaving  Butte  and  Anaconda,  passes  on  through 
Deer  Lodge  to  Missoula,  following,  in  general,  the  route 
of  the  Northern  Pacific,  and  revealing  vistas  of  glory 
that  must  have  been  the  delight  of  the  Indians  who 
roved  over  this  favored  region,  as  they  are  the  delight 
of  their  successors. 

Missoula,  just  beyond  the  western  limit  of  Hell  Gate 
Canyon,  is  in  a  valley  defined  by  mountains  whose 
slopes,  curiously  marked  by  a  succession  of  parallel 
ridges,  show  that  there  was  once  a  glacial  lake  where 
the  town  is  built,  and  that  this  lake,  by  successive  reces 
sions,  indicated  by  the  various  beach  lines  on  the  moun 
tains,  decreased  in  depth  from  at  least  one  thousand 
feet  until  it  disappeared  entirely. 

One  hundred  miles  northwest  of  Missoula  there  is 
yet  water  in  abundance.  At  Thompson  Falls  Thomp 
son  -Kiver  leaps  fifty  or  sixty  feet,  carrying  such  a  vol 
ume  that  the  eyes  of  engineers  as  well  as  lovers  of 
beauty  have  long  been  turned  to  the  stream.  It  has 
been  calculated  that  forty  thousand  horse-power  can 
be  developed  at  this  point  when  full  advantage  is  taken 
of  the  opportunity  presented. 

Thompson  Falls  is  headquarters  of  the  million-acre 
Cabinet  Forest,  one  of  the  smaller  forest  areas  in  a  state 
that  has,  all  told,  a  larger  acreage  under  the  control  of 
the  United  States  Forest  Service  than  any  other  state 
except  Idaho  and  California.  On  the  summit  of  a  hill 
on  the  right  of  Thompson  Falls  is  a  steel  tower  where, 
during  the  fire  season,  a  warden  keeps  vigilant  guard, 
Through  his  powerful  glasses  he  can  see  for  a  distance 

168 


WHERE   MONTANA  HISTORY   WAS   MADE 

of  fifty  miles  in  any  direction,  and  he  is  able  to  give 
warning  of  many  incipient  fires  in  time  to  prevent  wide 
spread  destruction.  The  visitor  to  the  state  who  secures 
the  view  from  the  tower  is  fortunate. 

Thompson  Falls,  with  its  power  plant  and  its  forest 
warden,  lies  to  the  north  of  the  point  where  the  Mullan 
road  crossed  over  into  what  is  now  Idaho,  passing  by 
beautiful  Cosur  d'Alene  Lake.  That  curious  name,  by 
the  way,  meaning  "Heart  of  an  Awl,"  is  said  to  have 
been  given  by  Indians  who  objected  to  the  hard  bar 
gains  driven  by  the  French  traders.  A  little  to  the 
north,  on  the  route  of  the  Northern  Pacific,  is  the  larger 
Pend  Oreille  Lake,  in  its  setting  of  rugged  mountains, 
where  a  steamer  is  ready  to  help  the  visitor  penetrate 
to  the  farther  recesses  of  this  gem  of  the  state  that — on 
the  map — looks  like  a  great  easy-chair,  and  is  more  than 
twice  as  large  as  Pennsylvania. 

Fortunately  Pend  Oreille  Lake  has  a  more  pleasing 
story  connected  with  its  name  than  its  sister  body  of 
water  to  the  south.  Pend  d'oreille  is  short  for  pendant 
d  'oreille,  meaning  earring.  But  there  are  two  stories 
for  the  application  of  the  term  earring  to  the  lake. 
Some  say  it  was  because  it  is  shaped  like  an  earring, 
but  others  insist  the  reason  was  that  Indians  who  wore 
earrings  lived  on  the  shore.  Take  your  choice ;  either 
explanation  is  good ! 


CHAPTER  XVII 
ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  LEWIS  AND  CLARK 

"  Westward  the  star  of  Empire  takes  its  way," 
When  Bishop  Berkley  wrote,  was  very  true. 

But  were  the  Bishop  living  now,  he'd  say 

That  brilliant  star  seems  fix'd  to  human  view. 

From  Eastern  hives  is  filled  Pacific's  shore — 

No  more  inviting  sunset  lands  are  here: 
The  restless  throngs  now  backward  pour — 

From  East  and  West  they  meet,  and  stop  right  here. 

THE  son  of  Montana  who  quoted  these  lines  more 
than  forty  years  ago  must  have  been  a  relative 
of  the  over-enthusiastic  boomer  who,  in  writing 
a  prospectus  of  the  rich  Musselshell  country  in  the  cen 
tral  part  of  the  state,  spoke  of  the  fact  that  the  valley 
had  unoccupied  lands  '  '  enough  for  millions  of  farms. ' ' 
Later  he  changed  his  figures  to  i  '  tens  of  thousands. ' ' 

Usually,  however,  the  loyal  citizen  of  the  mountain 
state  whose  princely  domains  stretch  nearly  eight  hun 
dred  miles  from  east  to  west  is  not  so  ready  to  revise 
his  figures ;  he  feels  that  he  can  hardly  make  claims  too 
great,  especially  if  he  is  talking  of  the  fertility  of  some 
of  the  valleys  or  of  the  scenic  splendor  of  its  mountains 
and  canyons,  its  rivers  and  cataracts.  Thus  he  shows 
himself  a  worthy  successor  of  the  Crow  Indians, 
who  declared  that  "the  Great  Spirit  only  looked  at 
other  countries,  but  lived  in  Montana  all  the  year." 
The  Sioux  were  not  always  on  good  terms  with  the 
Crows,  but  when  it  came  to  a  question  of  their  wonder 
ful  territory's  advantages  they  had  no  quarrel  with 
them ;  these  brave  Indians  were  resigned  to  the  thought 
of  death  anywhere  else,  but  to  die  in  Montana  made 

170 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  LEWIS  AND   CLARK 

death  delightful:  the  Great  Spirit  and  the  happy  hunt 
ing  grounds  were  so  near  at  hand. 

When  Lewis  and  Clark  wrote  the  story  of  their  expe 
dition  of  1805  up  the  Missouri  Eiver,  on  the  way  to  the 
Pacific,  even  their  prosaic  accounts  were  interrupted 
now  and  then  by  wondering  remarks  about  the  variety 
and  beauty  of  the  panorama  that  was  unfolding  before 
them  daily.  Since  later  explorers  have  followed  this 
example,  no  traveler  who  makes  his  way  across  the 
state  in  these  later  days  need  think  it  necessary  to  re 
strain  his  enjoyment  or  repress  his  exclamations. 

Many  of  those  who  cross  Montana  find  it  such  a 
pleasant  experience  to  be  on  the  trail  of  Lewis  and 
Clark,  to  look  on  some  of  the  very  marvels  beheld  by 
these  explorers,  that  it  is  not  at  all  difficult  for  them 
to  appreciate  the  enthusiasm  of  an  explorer  of  1872, 
who,  following  the  Missouri  Eiver  for  some  distance 
toward  its  source,  noted  on  a  little  island  a  cottonwood 
tree,  in  whose  branches  was  a  black  eagle's  nest.  As  he 
looked  at  the  nest  an  old  eagle  left  it,  soared  above  his 
head,  and  alighted  on  a  rock  within  a  hundred  feet. 
Noting  that  the  bird's  feathers  were  "soiled,  torn  and 
otherwise  old  looking, "  he  decided  that  probably  this 
was  the  same  eagle,  whose  nest  in  the  same  position,  on 
the  same  island,  was  seen  by  Lewis  and  Clark  in  1805. 

For  those  who  wish  to  compare  notes  with  President 
Jefferson's  explorers,  it  is  unfortunate  that  the  Great 
Northern  Railroad  departs  from  the  Missouri  Eiver — 
and  so  from  the  route  of  Lewis  and  Clark — at  its  junc 
tion  with  Milk  Eiver,  taking  a  route  that,  so  far  as  the 
map  is  concerned,  looks  like  the  continuation  of  the  Mis 
souri,  though  a  comparison  of  the  two  streams  does 
not  encourage  the  raising  of  the  question  which  of  the 
two  is  the  Missouri. 

171 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Early  navigators  of  these  waters  were  troubled  by 
a  sandbar  at  the  mouth  of  the  Milk  River.  On  this  bar, 
in  1866,  the  Luella,  laden  with  miners  and  gold  dust, 
grounded  heavily.  One  of  the  miners,  who  was  leaning 
over  the  rail  watching  the  efforts  made  to  dislodge  the 
boat,  fell  overboard.  There  were  but  two  feet  of  water, 
but  the  current  was  swift,  and  the  weight  of  gold  dust 
in  his  belt  was  great,  so  he  was  swept  away  in  an  instant, 
and  was  never  heard  from  again. 

Not  far  from  the  same  spot  the  Stockdale  had  a 
startling  experience  during  the  following  season.  The 
captain  knew  he  was  in  the  path  of  the  buffalo  herds 
seeking  southern  pasturage  for  the  fall  and  winter,  but 
he  was  amazed  by  the  appearance,  at  Elk  Horn  Prairie, 
of  hundreds  of  thousands  of  buffalo  that  crowded  the 
north  bank  for  several  miles,  back  to  the  bluff.  On 
came  the  beasts,  their  leaders  plunging  into  the  river 
ahead  of  the  steamer.  Soon  they  were  packed  so  closely 
in  the  water  that  the  steamer  could  not  move.  The  ves 
sel  staggered  from  the  shock  of  their  impact,  and  the 
buckets  of  the  stern  wheel  were  endangered  by  their 
rush.  For  several  hours  the  delay  continued;  all 
the  time  the  buffalo  were  crossing  the  river  by  thou 
sands,  and  were  disappearing  beyond  the  bluffs  on 
the  south  bank. 

The  buffalo  have  disappeared,  but  other  marvels 
have  taken  their  place.  Milk  Eiver  is  itself  one  of 
these  marvels,  now  that  the  United  States  Reclamation 
Service  has  taken  a  hand  in  making  it  behave.  Once 
the  lands  along  the  valley  were  parched  and  dry,  though 
by  all  precedent  the  river  should  have  had  abundant 
water  supply  from  the  melting  snow  of  the  mountains 
beyond  the  headwaters  of  the  river  and  its  tributaries. 
But  the  water  went  toward  the  Arctic  Ocean  instead  of 

172 


ON   THE   TRAIL  OF  LEWIS   AND    CLARK 

toward  the  Mississippi,  its  natural  outlet,  all  because 
in  ages  of  which  geology  tells  an  ice  sheet  pushed  down 
between  the  river  and  the  mountains.  But  the  genius  of 
the  water  engineers  was  sufficient  to  overcome  the 
handicap  of  the  ice-made  dam,  while  the  diplomacy  of 
statesmen  helped  to  solve  what  might  have  been  the 
insurmountable  difficulty  of  making  water  flow  over  an 
international  boundary  line  when  there  were  folks  in 
Canada  who  wanted  it.  The  story  of  the  Milk  Eiver 
Irrigation  Project,  which  utilizes  the  water  from  the 
lakes  in  Glacier  Park  in  a  wonderful  way,  will  repay 
reading,  in  detail. 

The  first  steamer  whose  captain  pushed  on  past  the 
north  of  Milk  Eiver,  to  Fort  Benton,  was  the  Chippewa, 
and  the  date  was  1859.  In  1860  there  were  two  arrivals 
at  what  became  the  head  of  navigation.  But  Fort  Ben- 
ton  had  no  steamer  in  1861,  though  the  Chippewa  was 
on  the  way.  A  deck-hand,  wishing  to  steal  a  drink,  went 
down  into  the  hull  with  a  lighted  candle  and  set  fire  to 
the  boat,  with  its  twenty-five  kegs  of  powder.  This  was 
one  of  the  first  of  many  disasters  on  the  Upper  Missouri. 

In  those  days  the  venturesome  steamboatmen  and 
traders  had  to  brave  many  dangers  in  the  navigation 
of  these  waters.  For  years  Indians  kept  the  white  men 
guessing,  and  there  were  casualties  without  number. 
Other  pests  were  much  smaller,  but  perhaps  they  were 
even  more  annoying.  Anyone  who  has  experienced  the 
appetite  and  persistency  of  the  Missouri  Kiver  mosquito 
will  appreciate  the  conversation  with  a  resident  who 
was  plowing  on  the  bank,  as  reported  by  an  explorer 
of  1872  to  the  Montana  Historical  Society: 

I  observed  that  the  mosquitoes  were  very  annoying 
on  this  part  of  the  river.  "Oh,"  said  he,  "this  is  noth 
ing,"  at  the  same  time  bringing  up  his  whip  that  he 

173 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

used  as  a  fly-brush ;  and  smacking  bis  puffed  and  swollen 
neck  and  pimpled  forehead  with  the  flat  of  his  other 
hand.  "You  ought  to  (smack!  whack!)  see  the  mos 
quitoes  (whack!  smack!)  in  Southern  Illinois,  where 
I  (smack!  whack!)  came  from." 

Fort  Benton  was  long  a  central  point  of  the  fur 
industry.  Later  it  was  a  distributing  point  for  the 
gold  and  silver  mines  of  Western  Montana  and  Idaho, 
as  well  as  a  gathering-point  for  miners  who  wished  to 
begin  the  long  passage  to  St.  Louis.  One  early  vessel 
carried  more  than  a  million  dollars  in  gold  direct 
through  the  Indian-infested  wilderness.  In  1867  thirty- 
nine  steamers  arrived  and  departed,  and  about  ten  thou 
sand  passengers  were  carried.  One  of  these  thirty- 
nine  boats  made  $42,594  in  five  months. 

From  Fort  Benton  a  good  road — the  old  stage  road 
toward  Helena — leads  to  Great  Falls,  that  splendid 
barrier  to  the  navigation  of  the  Missouri  so  vividly 
described  by  Lewis  and  Clark.  Bather  it  is  one  of  a 
serjes  of  barriers,  including  one  fall  of  fifty  feet,  an 
other  of  ninety  feet,  and  rapids  and  cascades  of  all  sorts 
and  sizes.  These  falls  were  as  fatal  to  the  migrating 
buffalo  as  they  were  to  the  hopes  of  the  steamboatmen ; 
as  late  as  1872  a  traveler  noted  numerous  dead  animals 
about  the  falls;  at  one  place  he  counted  twenty-six 
carcasses  in  a  heap.  Most  of  them  had  been  swept 
over  the  falls. 

Northwest  from  Great  Falls,  a  highway  leads  to  the 
reservation  set  apart  for  the  Blackfeet  Indians,  who 
are  fortunate  in  having  a  location  directly  alongside  of 
Glacier  National  Park.  There  the  desire  to  live  in  the 
land  of  mountains  and  lakes,  where  there  is  always 
hunting  and  fishing,  finds  ample  gratification. 

The  1534  square  miles  now  occupied  by  Glacier  Park, 

174 


VIEW    DOWN    FLATHEAD    RIVER    FROM    KNOWLES,    MONTANA 


GR1NNELL    GLACIER,    GLACIER   NATIONAL    PARK 


ON  THE  TRAIL  OF  LEWIS  AND   CLARK 

once  belonged  to  the  Blackf eet,  but,  following  the  copper 
discoveries  of  1890,  Congress  bought  the  district.  Soon 
it  was  learned  that  the  copper  deposits  were  small,  but 
that  here,  wonderfully  compacted,  was  some  of  the 
world's  most  marvelous  scenery.  Here  in  satisfying 
abundance  are  rugged  mountains,  snow-clad,  with  great 
plains  on  their  flanks;  several  hundred  blue  lakes  fed 
by  these  glaciers ;  cliffs,  gorges  and  waterfalls.  Here 
are  rivers  that  flow  from  the  Continental  Divide  to  the 
Pacific,  to  the  Arctic,  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  Merely  to 
read  the  list  of  the  names  of  some  of  them  is  enough 
to  make  the  eyes  glisten.  There  is  Cut  Bank  River, 
with  fir-clad  shores;  Two  Medicine  Lake;  Avalanche 
Lake,  whose  precipitous  walls  rise  thousands  of  feet; 
St.  Mary's  Lake,  with  Going-to-the-Sun  Mountain  be 
yond;  Grinnell  Lake,  and  its  parent,  Grinnell  Glacier, 
on  the  heights  above,  and  wild  Ptarmigan  Lake.  Those 
who  want  to  see  ice  in  August  have  only  to  seek  Iceberg 
Lake.  Those  who  want  the  pleasure  of  naming  a  lake 
or  a  trail  or  a  mountain  can  satisfy  themselves,  for 
so  rich  is  the  park  in  special  features  that  no  one  has 
had  time  to  name  them  all. 

John  Muir  came  this  way  once,  and  when  reluctantly 
he  turned  from  the  picture,  he  said:  "Give  a  month  at 
least  to  this  precious  reserve.  The  time  will  not  be 
taken  from  the  sum  of  your  life.  Instead  of  shortening 
it,  it  will  indefinitely  lengthen  it. ' ' 

Some  day  Glacier  National  Park  will  be  as  world- 
famous  as  the  Yosemite  or  the  Yellowstone,  and  pil 
grims  from  all  over  the  world  will  turn  thither.  Fortu 
nate  will  be  those  who  see  it  then,  but  more  fortunate 
are  those  who  see  it  now;  to  them  may  be  given  the 
opportunity  of  seeing  it  again  and  yet  again. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

"  THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE  WORLD  " 
THE  STORY  OF  YELLOWSTONE  PARK 

IF  the  Bannock  and  Crow  Indians  who  guarded  jeal 
ously  the  geysers  and  lakes  of  the  Yellowstone  had 
been  told  that,  in  the  opinioli  of  some,  there  were 
more  wonderful  spots  than  in  their  prized  valley,  prob 
ably  they  would  have  laughed.  They  know  that  this 
corner  of  what  is  now  Wyoming  was  unsurpassed,  and 
their  admiration  was  expressed  by  the  name  they  gave 
to  it,  "The  Summit  of  the  World. "  Long  time  they 
tried  to  keep  the  knowledge  of  the  Valley  of  Wonders 
from  the  hated  white  men,  and  in  their  efforts  they  were 
helped  by  the  forbidding  surroundings  of  what  is  to-day 
known  as  Yellowstone  Park.  For  there  are  mountains 
on  all  sides — the  Shoshone  Mountains,  the  Wind  Eiver 
Mountains,  the  Gallatin  Eange,  and  finally  the  sinister 
Tetons  that  dominate  the  southwestern  border. 

In  1807,  however,  a  white  man  named  Coulter  pene 
trated  the  mountain  barriers  and  entered  the  hidden 
region  beloved  by  the  Indians.  On  his  return  he  told  of 
some  of  the  things  he  had  seen,  though  he  did  not  dare 
to  tell  all  the  truth.  Even  then  his  associates  unbeliev 
ingly  referred  to  the  valley  as  "Coulter's  Hell." 

On  various  occasions  miners  and  trappers  followed 
Coulter.  They,  too,  were  called  liars  by  their  friends, 
who  thought  that  their  stories  of  burning  plains  and 
spouting  springs  were  figments  of  the  imagination. 
The  authors  of  the  tales,  feeling  that  they  were  not  be 
lieved,  decided  that  they  might  as  well  lie,  so  there 

176 


GIANT    GEYSER,    YELLOWSTONE    PAKK.       SPOUTS    AN    HOUR    AT    A    TIME,    AT 
INTERVALS    OF  FROM    SIX  TO    FOURTEEN    DAYS.       WATER    REACHES  HEIGHT 

OF    250    FEET 


THE  SUMMIT  OF  THE   WORLD 

soon  were  current  stories  that  savored  of  the  Arabian 
Nights.  They  told  of  a  company  of  trappers  who 
escaped  from  pursuing  Indians  "by  traveling  night 
after  night  by  the  brilliant  light  of  a  large  diamond 
providentially  exposed  on  a  mountain. ' '  The  early  his 
torians  of  the  valley  who  recorded  these  wonder  tales 
recounted  also  the  rumors  of  a  region  which  instantly 
petrified  whatever  entered  it.  ' i  Eabbits  and  sage-hens, 
even  Indians,  were  standing  about  there,  like  statuary, 
among  thickets  of  petrified  sage-brush,  whose  strong 
branches  bore  diamonds,  rubies,  sapphires,  emeralds 
and  other  gems  by  the  thousand,  as  large  as  walnuts. ' ' 
Possibly  the  basis  for  this  story  was  the  sight  of  animals 
killed  by  the  carbon  dioxide  of  Death  Gulch,  where  bear 
and  elk,  as  well  as  smaller  quadrupeds,  have  been 
found  asphyxiated. 

In  1859  an  unsuccessful  attempt  was  made  by  a  gov 
ernment  expedition  to  enter  the  valley.  The  leader, 
Colonel  Eeynolds,  was  unable  to  reach  the  basin  because 
the  rocky  mountain  barrier  hindered  him  when  he 
approached  from  the  East,  and  a  barrier  of  snow  was  in 
the  way  when  he  made  his  trail  from  the  West. 

For  twelve  years  more  these  rumors  persisted. 
Then  a  company  of  Montana  officials  and  citizens  deter- 
mine'd  to  learn  what  was  back  of  the  stories.  They  toiled 
over  a  mountain,  which  they  named  Mount  Washburn, 
and  then  came  to  a  valley  of  hot  springs.  Later  they 
stood  on  the  edge  of  the  Grand  Canyon  of  the  Yellow 
stone.  After  traveling  along  the  edge  for  several  miles, 
two  explorers  made  their  way  down  to  the  river,  more 
than  a  thousand  feet  below.  Thence  the  journey  was 
continued  through  the  scenes  that  have  become  familiar 
'to  tourists,  but  progress  was  far  more  difficult  than  it 

v   12  "  177 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

is  to-day.  Over  rocks  and  fallen  trees  they  went,  pick 
ing  their  way  along  precipices,  never  knowing  what 
danger  would  be  in  their  path.  Once  when  a  man  was 
passing  near  the  edge  of  a  boiling  alum  spring,  the 
crust  broke  under  his  feet.  For  an  instant  his  comrade 
feared  that  he  would  lose  his  life,  but  he  quickly  fell 
backward  on  the  unbroken  crust  and  so  avoided  the 
awful  death. 

One*  day  a  member  of  the  party  was  lost.  Search 
for  him  was  made  in  vain.  For  thirty-seven  days  he 
wandered  in  the  wilderness,  without  food,  except  what 
roots  he  could  find,  without  fire,  except  when  he  could 
kindle  a  flame  from  a  lens  of  his  field-glasses,  without  a 
knife,  until  he  fashioned  one  from  the  tongue  of  a  buckle. 
When  he  was  rescued  he  was  in  a  pitiable  condition. 

The  story  of  the  "Thirty-seven  Days  of  Peril"  as 
published  in  Scribner's  Magazine  for  November,  1871, 
should  be  preserved  as  one  of  the  classic  narratives  of 
American  adventure.  One  of  the  interested  readers,  an 
Iowa  man,  could  not  put  the  Yellowstone  out  of  mind. 
Soon  he  became  one  of  the  pioneers  who  proposed  to 
make  comfortable  the  travelers  who  sought  the  valley, 
and  for  many  years  he  continued  the  service,  inspired 
by  the  tale  of  Thomas  C.  Everts. 

Mt.  Everts,  two  miles  east  of  Mammoth  Hot  Springs, 
is  the  memorial  of  the  hero  of  the  thirty-seven  days 
of  wandering. 

Those  who  follow  in  the  steps  of  the  unfortunate 
Everts  may  enter  the  Park  from  the  north,  within  sight 
of  the  lofty  Electric  Peak;  from  the  west,  where  the 
Tetons  lift  their  heads ;  from  the  east,  by  the  wonderful 
Cody  Eoad,  or  from  the  south,  by  way  of  Jackson's  Hole. 
They  may  come  by  train  from  north  or  south  or  east, 

178 


Copyright  by  Haynes,  St.  Paul 

NORRIS    GEYSER    BASIN,    YELLOWSTONE    PARK 


ELECTRIC    PEAK,    NEAR    GARDINER    ENTRANCE    TO    YELLOWSTONE    PARK 


THE   SUMMIT  OF  THE    WORLD 

or  they  may  take  the  highway  from  Salt  Lake  City  or 
the  impressive  road  that  leads  more  than  three  hun 
dred  miles  across  the  mountains  of  Montana  all  the 
way  from  Glacier  Park. 

There  are  those  who  try  to  devote  a  day  or  two  to  the 
3575  square  miles  of  the  park,  as  if  in  this  time  they 
could  give  even  a  passing  glance  to  lakes  and  geysers, 
canyons  and  mountains,  petrified  forests  and  mud  vol 
canoes.  It  is  not  enough  to  see  these  things  once ;  wiser 
are  those  who  return  after  the  first  visit  to  wonder  at 
the  colorings  of  the  rock  walls  of  the  canyon  where 
bronze  and  orange  and  scarlet  unite  with  green  and 
pearl  and  pink,  forming  a  picture  that  rivals  the  rain 
bow,  and  tells  of  kinship  with  the  sunset;  to  stand  in 
the  Norris  Geyser  Basin,  or  its  associates,  where  more 
than  forty  geysers,  at  regular  or  irregular  intervals, 
spout  and  gush  and  bubble;  to  follow  the  trails  and 
climb  the  mountains,  or  to  camp  in  the  forests  and  watch 
the  antelope,  the  bison,  the  moose  and  the  mountain 
sheep  that  have  found  asylum  in  a  region  where  no 
one  dares  to  harm  them,  where  many  of  them  lose  the 
fear  of  man  because  man  no  longer  pursues  them. 

And  after  such  a  visit,  prolonged  to  many  days  or 
even  weeks,  it  will  be  possible  to  laugh  intelligently  at 
the  Englishmen  of  whom  an  early  visitor  to  the  Park 
told.  ' l  This  is  not  a  park, ' '  the  disgruntled  man  said ; 
' '  there  is  nothing  here  worth  notice  but  the  geyser  and 
the  cany  on. "  He  refused  to  visit  Yellowstone  Lake, 
saying,  "It  is  nothing  but  a  body  of  water,  surrounded 
by  land,  which  one  can  see  anywhere,  without  going 
so  far."  He  looked  at  the  Hot  Springs,  and  said, 
with  superior  air,  "What  does  that  signify?  It  is 
only  steam!" 

179 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

Yes,  only  steam,  and  color,  and  rock,  and  water, 
and  trees ;  only  canyons  and  precipices,  fire  and  brim 
stone,  springs  and  paint-pots,  pools  and  cascades.  But 
all  these  beauties  and  a  hundred  more  have  been  thrown 
together  with  prodigal  hand,  and  combined  with  a  skill 
that  makes  one  gasp  and  find  kinship  with  those  of  the 
ancient  day  who  said  that  here  was  "The  Summit  of 
the  "World." 


CHAPTER  XIX 
FROM  THE  YELLOWSTONE  TO  WALLA  WALLA 

THE  crooked  course  of  the  Snake  River,  first  the 
North  Fork,  then  the  main  stream,  from  the 
western  border  of  Yellowstone  Park,  to  Lewis- 
ton,  the  old  capital  of  Idaho,  is  a  route  of  absorbing  his 
toric  interest  as  well  as  of  tremendous  scenic  grandeur. 
The  first  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  of  the  route  was 
unknown  to  the  explorers  who  threaded  this  marvelous 
western  country  on  the  way  to  the  Pacific,  but  from 
Fort  Hall  to  the  point  on  the  western  boundary  of 
Idaho,  northwest  of  Boise,  was  the  pathway  of  Hunt  on 
his  way  to  Astoria  in  1810,  of  Bonneville  in  1831-33,  and 
of  Fremont  in  1843,  and  of  those  who  followed  them 
over  the  old  Oregon  Trail — hunters,  trappers,  mission 
aries,  home-seekers,  prospectors  and  miners. 

As  a  rule  the  travelers  of  an  earlier  day  had  so  much 
leisure  to  enjoy  the  varied  natural  features  of  this 
Snake  River  wilderness  that  they  wearied  of  their 
opportunity  long  before  it  was  terminated  by  entrance 
on  the  country  where  the  last  barrier  of  mountains 
separated  them  from  the  valleys  of  the  Pacific  Coast. 

For  the  satisfaction  of  those  who  follow  them  in 
these  later  days,  both  the  friendly  highway  and  the 
convenient  railroad  lead  from  the  western  boundary 
of  the  Park,  just  over  the  Montana  line,  into  Idaho  by 
way  of  glacier-sculptured  Reas  Pass.  The  pass  is 
nearly  seven  thousand  feet  high,  but  only  a  few  miles 
to  the  south  are  peaks  that  are  much  higher,  notably 
Sautelle  Peak,  which  is  more  than  ten  thousand  feet. 

181 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

For  those  who  follow  the  Snake  Eiver,  mountains 
are  not  the  only  feature  worthy  of  attention.  Others 
come  in  such  quick  succession  that  the  passenger  on  the 
train  wishes  that  he  could  be  in  an  automobile,  and  the 
man  in  a  motor  is  tempted  to  forget  his  purpose  to  make 
a  certain  far-distant  point  by  nightfall.  Henry's  Lake 
is  succeeded  by  Henry's  Fork  of  the  Snake,  which  soon 
has  an  immense  waterfall,  and,  a  mile  farther  up  stream 
a  fall  still  higher  and  more  imposing.  Between  the 
falls  is  a  canyon  whose  walls  are  250  feet  deep.  Warm 
Eiver  with  its  swirling  waters  is  near  until  the  route 
passes  out  of  the  Douglas  firs  of  the  Targhee  National 
Forest.  Soon,  to  the  east,  the  Tetons  show  their  rugged 
peaks,  one  of  which,  Grand  Teton,  has  been  conquered 
by  mountain  climbers  but  two  or  three  times.  And  all 
this,  with  numberless  attractions  of  interest  that  must 
take  minor  place  on  this  compelling  trip,  within  a  dis 
tance  of  thirty  or  forty  miles ! 

Still  more  canyons  and  waterfalls  mark  the  route 
to  the  south.  St.  Anthony  is  built  by  a  narrow  canyon 
\vhere  the  Snake  narrows  to  fifty  feet  and  the  rapidly 
falling  water  churns  through  the  straitened  passage, 
though  the  stream  widens  to  800  feet  immediately  below. 
Idaho  Falls  has  a  similar  narrow  canyon,  formed  by  the 
constant  recession  of  the  falls  into  the  lava  that  overlies 
the  whole  country  roundabout.  The  pioneers  had 
reason  to  remember  this  point,  because  a  man  who 
had  an  eye  to  the  main  chance  built  across  the  canyon 
a  toll-bridge  that  brought  him  in  a  good  income. 

Irrigation  ditches,  fruitful  orchards  and  fertile 
fields,  then  the  Fort  Hall  Indian  Eeservation,  with  its 
miles  of  sagebrush  that  show  what  all  the  land  would 
be  but  for  irrigation,  divide  the  attention  for  many 

182 


YELLOWSTONE   TO   WALLA   WALLA 

miles.  The  headquarters  of  the  Fort  Hall  Eeservation 
are  at  Fort  Hall,  built  on  the  site  of  the  fort  that  marked 
the  junction  of  the  trail  to  Oregon  and  the  trail  from 
Utah  to  California.  This  fort  was  visited  in  1836  by 
Dr.  Whitman,  pioneer  missionary  to  Oregon,  whose 
name  has  been  connected  in  popular  story  with  the 
winning  of  the  Oregon  country  for  the  United  States, 
though  many  sober-minded  historians  insist  that  his 
winter's  ride  from  Walla  Walla  to  St.  Louis,  the  first 
part  of  it  to  Fort  Hall,  did  not  have  the  importance  that 
has  been  assigned  to  it. 

What  a  chapter  of  stories  both  grave  and  gay  could 
be  written  of  the  pioneers  who  labored  through  the 
Southern  Idaho  country !  Unfortunately  there  was  no 
historian  to  tell  of  the  men  and  women  who  passed  Fort 
Hall.  Earely,  however,  a  record  was  made  by  some 
member  of  a  party  who  was  not'  afraid  of  the  pen.  Most 
of  the  stories  are  so  prosaic  that  it  is  evident  the 
writers  were  unconscious  of  the  heroism  of  those  who 
journeyed  over  the  mountains  to  Oregon.  One  humble 
traveler  told,  however,  of  a  maiden  lady  in  his  company 
who  was  determined  to  keep  up  her  particular  home 
ways.  She  had  fifteen  flower  pots  with  house  plants 
when  she  started,  but  she  had  to  part  with  them  in 
the  desert.  "She  had  a  looking-glass  and  used  it  as 
regularly  as  if  she  had  been  at  home."  She  had  a 
broom,  and  whenever  camp  was  made  she  always  swept 
a  place  and  put  down  a  piece  of  rag  carpet.  Further, 
she  would  set  her  table  regularly  and  carried  all  the 
way  her  grandmother's  silver  tankard,  with  which  she 
decorated  her  table.  If  there  was  a  flower  to  be  found, 
or  even  a  bunch  of  grass,  she  always  had  a  bouquet  in 
that  tankard. 

183 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

It  was  a  woman  who  told  another  typical  incident  of 
the  days  of  the  forties : 

A  party  of  four  men  who  were  riding  on  horseback 
joined  our  company  when  we  were  on  the  plain.  I 
overheard  one  of  them  say  one  night,  * t  Sir,  I  am  a  true 
laborer,  earn  that  I  eat,  get  that  I  wear."  So  I  called 
out,  "Who  is  quoting  Shakespeare  out  here  in  the  wil 
derness?"  "What  woman  can  there  be  out  here  who 
knows  Shakespeare  when  she  hears  it!"  said  he.  So 
after  that  we  were  great  friends.  He  had  once  been  a 
college  professor  in  Edinburgh,  Scotland,  very  learned 
in  everything  and  could  speak  seven  languages,  yet  he 
was  jogging  along  on  an  old  mule  and  looking  like 
a  scarecrow. 

All  the  way  from  Fort  Hall  and  Pocatello  to  Sho- 
shone  Falls  and  beyond  the  Snake  flows  through  what  is, 
with  one  exception,  the  greatest  lava  plain  in  the  coun 
try,  with  an  area  of  perhaps  twenty  thousand  square 
miles.  The  thickness  of  the  bed  is  not  known,  though 
at  Shoshone  Falls,  where  the  river  makes  a  perpendicu 
lar  descent  of  two  hundred  and  ten  feet,  it  is  seen  to 
be  nearly  seven  hundred  feet  from  the  surface  to  the 
lower  limit.  There  are  many  cataracts  and  rapids 
almost  without  number  from  this  point  to  the  junction 
of  the  river  with  the  Clark  Fork  of  the  Columbia,  but 
all  of  them  are  of  comparative  insignificance  in  com 
parison  with  the  parent  of  them  all. 

Snake  Eiver,  with  its  length  of  nine  hundred  miles, 
and  its  tributaries,  is  one  of  the  tremendous  factors  in 
the  irrigation  of  land  that  would  otherwise  be  given 
up  to  sagebrush  and  barren  lava  wastes.  The  Minidoka 
Project  and  the  Payette-Boise  Project,  both  among  the 
country's  most  spectacular  water  schemes,  are  on  the 
route  described  in  this  chapter.  The  Arrowroot  Dam  at 

184 


YELLOWSTONE   TO   WALLA   WALLA 

Boise  is  seventy-one  feet  higher  than  the  famous  Koose- 
velt  Dam  in  Arizona.  Through  the  beneficent  influence 
of  the  water  impounded  here  Boise  is  becoming  one  of 
the  greatest  potato  sections  in  the  country. 

All  the  country  is  of  volcanic  origin,  and  is  full  of 
reminders  of  this  origin.  Near  the  banks  of  the  river, 
at  many  places,  are  what  have  been  called  volcanic 
bombs,  elongated  projectiles  that  in  some  remote  age 
were  shot  as  plastic  lava  from  the  crater  of  a  volcano. 
In  falling  from  a  great  height  they  took  the  shape  that 
makes  them  resemble  nothing  so  much  as  a  snake.  Thus 
they  are  fit  companions  for  the  river  whose  tortuous 
channel  gave  it  the  name  Snake,  though  some  have 
called  it  Shoshone. 

Fortunately  the  name  Shoshone  still  clings  to  the 
falls  of  which  an  explorer  of  the  United  States  Geo 
logical  Survey  said  in  1868  that  they  were  among  the 
greatest  of  America's  cataracts.  Though  the  volume  of 
water  is  not  so  great  as  that  of  Niagara,  the  approach 
and  the  surroundings  are  far  more  impressive.  Above 
the  falls  the  river,  two  hundred  yard  wide,  is  deep  down 
in  a  dark  canyon.  Cataract  follows  cataract  for  some 
distance,  but  all  are  insignificant  in  comparison  with 
the  great  fall  itself,  which  is  in  the  shape  of  a  horseshoe, 
more  than  one  thousand  feet  around  the  rim. 

In  the  country  between  Fort  Hall  and  Shoshone 
Falls,  a  pioneer  of  1849  had  an  unusual  experience  that 
gave  him  a  thorough  understanding  of  the  lava  forma 
tions  as  well  as  of  the  sagebrush.  With  four  compan 
ions  he  tried  to  cross  the  river  to  secure  a  horse  from 
Indians.  They  made  their  way  to  the  water  by  means 
of  a  steep  ravine  cut  in  the  lava  cliff.  Though  it  was 
dark  when  they  reached  the  river,  they  decided  to  ven- 

185 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

ture  into  the  rock  impeded,  rapid  water.  After  tying 
their  shirts  and  moccasins  to  their  necks,  and  hiding  the 
remainder  of  their  clothing,  they  entered  the  stream. 
The  trip  was  made  without  adventure,  and  they  re 
turned  in  safety. 

But  one  of  the  men  failed  to  find  his  clothing  when 
he  landed.  Chilled  through,  he  decided  to  approach 
one  of  the  campfires  near  by.  * '  My  wardrobe  consisted 
of  one  cotton  garment  and  a  pair  of  moccasins,"  he 
described  his  predicament.  "Though  the  season  was 
midsummer,  the  night  was  cold,  for  we  were  more  than 
four  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  and  a  sharp  wind  was 
blowing  from  snow  peaks  that  were  within  plain  sight  in 
the  daytime.  I  had  to  move  very  briskly  to  keep  warm ; 
and  for  fear  of  losing  my  direction,  I  followed  a  straight 
course  without  turning  aside  for  ravines,  stones  or 
sagebrush.  In  a  few  minutes  I  saw  that  I  had  selected 
the  wrong  fire.  But  I  went  on.  It  proved  to  be  eight 
miles  to  the  camp.  The  man  on  guard  heard  me  ap 
proaching  and  called  out,  'No  Indians  in  camp  at 
night.'  When  I  went  nearer  he  called  out,  'Stop,  or 
I'll  shoot.  No  Indians  in  camp  at  night.'  'I'm  as 
white  as  you  are!'  I  called  to  him.  ' White  men 
don't  go  about  that  way,'  he  replied.  'This  one  does, 
but  I  have  had  enough  of  it,'  I  said.  Then  I  was 
received  with  laughter." 

In  the  morning  he  found  his  clothes  in  another  ravine 
than  that  in  which  he  had  searched  for  them. 

"No  need  to  ask  me  if  I  know  what  sagebrush  is 
after  that  night, ' '  he  said,  grimly,  when  telling  the  story. 

Not  far  from  the  same  spot  the  Snake  proved  disas 
trous  to  the  party  of  Wilson  Price  Hunt,  who  was  in 
charge  of  the  land  expedition  to  Astoria.  In  October, 

186 


YELLOWSTONE  TO   WALLA   WALLA 

1810,  the  men  attempted  to  ascend  the  rapids  where 
rocks  made  the  passage  most  difficult.  A  boat  was 
wrecked  and  one  of  the  men  was  drowned.  At  this 
point  the  river  was  hut  thirty  feet  wide,  and  the  lava 
walls  were  two  hundred  feet  high.  The  waters  within 
were  so  troubled  that  Hunt  called  the  spot  the  Caldron 
Linn.  Exploring  parties  sent  down  the  river  reported 
that  for  many  miles  it  "presented  the  same  furious 
aspect,  brawling  and  boiling  along  a  narrow  and  rugged 
channel,  between  rocks  that  rose  like  walls. ' ' 

From  this  point  they  had  to  travel  nearly  five  hun 
dred  miles  on  foot. 

In  the  days  before  the  railroad  was  built  through 
the  Snake  Eiver  valley  from  Ogden  to  Boise,  traveling 
was  expensive.  The  stage  fare  between  the  towns  was 
$100  for  the  distance  of  less  than  four  hundred  miles. 
After  the  completion  of  the  Central  Pacific  Railroad 
one  man  figured  that  it  was  cheaper  for  him  to  go  to 
Walla  Walla  by  rail  to  San  Francisco,  by  steamer  to 
Portland,  and  up  the  Columbia,  than  to  go  overland  by 
direct  route. 

Boise,  the  successor  of  Lewiston,  which  originally 
had  the  honor  of  being  the  capital  of  Idaho  Territory 
when  Montana  and  part  of  Wyoming  were  included  in 
its  bounds,  is  so  beautifully  located  that  the  citizens 
feel  it  would  be  worth  even  a  trip  by  stage  for  a  few 
hundred  miles  to  reach  it.  Now  that  it  is  not  only 
on  the  railroad  but  on  the  main  route  for  automobile 
travel  from  Kansas  City  to  Portland,  they  feel  very 
properly  that  there  is  no  excuse  for  passing  by  its 
whole-hearted  invitation  to  stop  and  learn  what  Idaho 
hospitality  is. 

At  Boise  they  tell  interesting  stories  of  the  days  of 

187 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

1862  when  the  first  gold  discoveries  in  Idaho  were  made 
in  the  country  to  the  south.  One  of  the  richest  quartz 
lodes  was  found  unexpectedly.  The  story  is  that  two 
men,  on  the  way  to  Boise,  were  talking  of  quartz.  One 
man  said  he  did  not  know  quartz  when  he  saw  it.  His 
companion  therefore  picked  up  several  pieces  from  the 
trail  and  showed  them  to  him.  The  quartz  he  dropped 
into  his  pocket  without  thinking.  Some  time  later  the 
men  were  at  Bannock,  where  they  were  speedily  in 
difficulty  because  their  horses  were  stolen  and  they  were 
left  penniless.  Idly  the  man  who  had  the  quartz  showed 
it  at  the  express  office.  The  eye  of  the  agent  glistened. 
*  'I'll  buy  you  a  horse  if  you'll  take  me  to  the  spot  where 
you  found  that  rock,"  he  said.  The  place  was  found, 
the  mother  lode  on  the  hill  was  discovered,  and  soon 
the  agent  and  his  guide  were  taking  large  dividends 
from  the  mine. 

Unfortunately  the  story  does  not  tell  how  fared  the 
man  for  whom  the  quartz  was  picked  up ! 

XA11  along  from  Boise  to  Lewiston — named  for  the 
explorer  Lewis — the  Snake  continues  its  course  through 
volcanic  country,  flowing  at  times  through  canyons,  fre 
quently  choosing  its  way  over  rocks,  and  always  making 
a  trip  by  its  waters  worth  while.  Mountains  near  by 
and  farther  away,  as  well  as  tributary  streams  and 
bordering  forests,  give  variety  to  the  expedition  to  the 
town  that  is  close  to  the  site  of  the  station  where  Dr. 
Spalding  began  his  work  among  the  Indians  at  Clear- 
water.  Here  a  pioneer  mill  was  built,  whose  millstones 
were  brought  forty  miles  from  the  quarry  on  a  raft,  and 
here  the  first  printing  press  in  the  Oregon  country  was 
set  up.  That  press  is  preserved  in  the  rooms  of  the 
Historical  Society  at  Portland,  while  one  of  the  mill- 

188 


YELLOWSTONE  TO   WALLA   WALLA 

stones  is  among  the  treasures  of  the  University  of 
Idaho  at  Moscow. 

Some  of  the  best  of  Washington's  scenic  highways 
lead  from  Lewiston  to  Walla  Walla,  while  steamers 
reach  from  this  head  of  navigation  down  the  Snake  and 
Columbia  rivers  to  Portland.  The  overland  route 
passes  through  canyons  and  hills,  past  great  grain 
farms  and  fruit  orchards,  over  a  divide  that  affords 
a  view  for  miles  back  toward  the  Snake  Eiver.  The 
final  stage  is  twenty  miles  over  the  macadam  Dixie  road, 
through  the  famous  wheat  fields  and  apple  orchards  of 
Walla  Walla  County  to  Walla  Walla,  the  Indians'  city 
of  many  waters,  so  named  because,  in  the  mountains 
near  by  dozens  of  streams  have  their  source. 

From  Walla  Walla  many  admirable  highways  lead 
in  all  directions.  On  one  of  these,  the  Inland  Empire 
Highway,  seven  miles  from  the  city,  at  Whitman  Sta 
tion,  is  the  monument  to  Marcus  Whitman,  the  pioneer 
missionary  who,  with  his  wife  and  children  and  a  num 
ber  of  others,  was  killed  by  the  Cayuse  Indians  among 
whom  they  had  lived  so  many  years  because,  when  the 
Cayuse  were  dying  of  a  strange  sickness,  they  declared 
that  Whitman  was  killing  them  off  that  he  might  own 
the  land  for  the  settlers  who  were  flocking  to  the 
beautiful  valley ! 


CHAPTER  XX 
FROM  GREAT  SALT  LAKE  TO  SACRAMENTO 

ONE  who  sees  Salt  Lake  City  to-day  in  its  glori 
ous  setting  of  mountains  can  hardly  credit  the 
fact  that  on  July  24,  1847,  when  Brigham 
Young  came  to  the  chosen  site  for  the  City  of  the  Saints, 
one  of  the  three  women  with  this  advance  party  said, 
"Weak  as  I  am,  I  would  rather  go  a  thousand  miles 
farther  than  stop  in  this  forsaken  place. ' ' 

There  were  many  weary  days  before  the  new  city 
began  to  present  a  homelike  aspect.  The  sight  of  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  waving  from  Ensign  Peak  on  a  spur 
of  the  Wasatch  Eange,  was  the  first  satisfaction  for  the 
homesick;  though  the  territory  was  still  a  part  of 
Mexico,  the  leader  of  the  expedition  proposed  to  fly 
the  flag  of  his  country.  Then,  little  by  little,  difficulties 
were  overcome,  the  broad  streets  were  lined  with  houses, 
and  the  lands  along  the  Jordan  were  cultivated.  Less 
than  a  year  after  the  settlement,  a  plague  of  Eocky 
Mountain  crickets  threatened  to  devastate  the  growing 
crops  that  made  the  valley  begin  to  look  inhabited. 
There  seemed  to  be  no  relief,  when  suddenly  a  great 
flock  of  gulls  swooped  down  from  the  sky,  and  devoured 
the  crickets.  To  this  day  the  gull  is  looked  upon  with 
veneration  in  Utah. 

There  is  no  better  spot  from  which  to  gaze  on  the 
widespread  beauty  of  Salt  Lake  City  and  its  surround 
ings  than  from  the  side  of  the  staff  on  Ensign  Peak, 
where  the  flag  still  floats  on  holiday  occasions.  Below 
are  the  farms  and  orchards  in  the  valley  of  the  Jordan. 

190 


GREAT  SALT  LAKE  TO  SACRAMENTO 

East  of  the  city  are  the  snowy  peaks  of  the  Wasatch 
Range,  while  over  the  Jordan  the  heights  of  the  Oquirrh 
Range  stretch  far  above  the  snow  line.  Far  beyond  the 
city  lies  in  majesty  Great  Salt  Lake.  Here  and  there 
among  the  mountains  are  canyons  and  chasms  and 
miracles  of  rock  carving.  And  the  central  feature  of 
the  picture  is  the  city  itself,  which  is  as  remarkable  as 
its  surroundings. 

Ample  provision  for  seeing  the  details  of  the  beauti 
ful  country  both  south  and  north  of  Salt  Lake  City 
is  made  not  only  by  admirable  roads  but  also  by  inter- 
urban  lines  that  extend  two  hundred  miles  in  all.  The 
Garden  of  Utah,  south  of  the  city,  is  traversed  by  one 
of  these  roads,  which  is  on  the  banks  of  Jordan  between 
the  Wasatch  and  the  Oquirrh  and  goes  past  Utah  Lake, 
a  body  of  fresh  water  that  is  one  of  the  richest  gems  of 
Utah's  varied  jewel  casket.  The  glaciers  of  Mount 
Timpanogas  feed  the  blue  lake  which  in  turn  gives  the 
Jordan  its  waters  that  make  the  bordering  acres  a 
billowy  sea  of  green.  To  the  west  of  the  Jordan,  not 
far  from  the  south  shore  of  the  lake,  the  remarkable 
open  cutting  copper  mines  in  Bingham  Canyon  are  a 
curiosity  that  should  be  seen  before  the  return  to  Salt 
Lake  City. 

For  the  thirty-seven-mile  trip  along  the  Wasatch 
Range  from  Salt  Lake  City  to  Ogden,  railroad,  highway 
and  electric  line  give  unrivaled  opportunity  for  seeing 
the  rugged  country.  An  enthusiastic  motorist  has  called 
the  route  between  the  cities  "  America's  best  forty  miles 
of  scenery. ' '  His  boast  is  not  without  reason.  There 
is  a  warm  lake,  fed  by  springs,  and  there  is  a  valley 
made  fertile  by  the  deposits  in  the  bed  of  the  ancient 
Lake  Bonneville,  the  great  fresh-water  lake  that  once 

191 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

covered  a  large  part  of  Utah  as  well  as  parts  of  Nevada 
and  Idaho.  The  upper  beach  line  on  the  mountains  on 
the  left  indicates  that  the  road  was  once  eight  hundred 
feet  under  water.  A  lower  beach  line,  plainly  visible, 
shows  that  the  lake  was  lowered  three  hundred  feet 
when  an  outlet  was  cut  to  the  north,  so  that  the  waters 
of  the  lake  flowed  through  the  Snake  to  the  Columbia. 
Geologists  tell  how  the  elevation  of  the  Sierra  Nevada 
Mountains  became  responsible  for  cutting  off  moisture 
from  the  Pacific  Ocean,  and  in  consequence  Lake  Bonne- 
ville  slowly  dried  up  until  it  became  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  of  to-day. 

One  of  the  choice  views  on  the  route  is  found  a  short 
distance  from  Ogden  on  the  high  ground  near  the  center 
of  the  peninsula  that  juts  into  the  lake.  All  about 
are  lands  that  less  than  a  generation  ago  could  have 
been  bought  for  five  dollars  an  acre,  for  they  were 
thought  to  be  barren  sand ;  to-day  they  are  worth  five 
hundred  dollars  an  acre  or  more. 

Far  to  the  right,  beyond  Ogden,  is  the  pass  in  the 
Wasatch  Range  where  enters  from  the  east  the  irriga 
tion  canal  that  is  responsible  for  this  spectacular  change 
in  value,  as  well  as  the  old  trail  of  the  emigrants,  and  its 
successor,  the  Central  Pacific  Eailroad.  This  Weber 
Eiver  Canyon  is  the  one  possible  entrance  through  the 
barren  mountains. 

Ogden  offers  a  valuable  extension  of  the  ride  from 
the  south  in  the  trip  through  Ogden  Canyon  to  Ogden 
Valley,  once  a  bay  of  Lake  Bonneville,  now  a  secluded 
mountain  valley  about  forty  miles  square.  At  one  point 
the  canyon  is  so  narrow  that  highway  and  electric  car 
line  have  little  room  to  spare,  while  the  limestone  walls 
tower  several  thousand  feet  high  on  either  side.  There 

192 


GREAT  SALT  LAKE  TO  SACRAMENTO 

is  an  artificial  waterfall  at  one  point  high  up  on  one 
of  the  rocky  walls  of  the  canyon,  fed  by  a  stream 
from  one  of  the  sixteen  artesian  wells  in  the  valley 
beyond  the  source  of  Ogdeii's  water  supply. 

Long  distance  highways  lead  from  Ogden  to  Yellow 
stone  Park,  to  Pocatello,  Idaho,  to  Twin  Falls,  Idaho, 
to  Evanston,  Wyoming,  and  to  Reno,  Nevada,  and 
thence  to  San  Francisco.  The  latter  route,  along  the 
line  of  the  Central  Pacific,  is  the  Lincoln  Highway.  This 
highway  rounds  the  lake  to  the  south,  as  did  the  rail 
road  until  the  Lucin  Cut-off  was  built  directly  across 
the  lake,  so  saving  forty-two  miles  of  difficult  travel,  and 
eliminating  4300  degrees  of  curvature. 

The  lake  thus  boldly  crossed  was  long  a  mystery. 
In  1689  Baron  Lahontan,  in  telling  the  story  of  his  dis 
coveries  in  the  southwest,  spoke  of  the  Mozeemlek  In 
dians  who  described  to  him  a,  lake  of  salt  water  thirty 
leagues  wide  with  three  hundred  leagues  of  shore  line. 
The  Baron's  map  showing  the  lake  is  one  of  the  curious 
documents  of  early  days.  Washington  Irving,  in  the 
volume  describing  Captain  Bonneville's  journey  across 
the  Eocky  Mountains,  published  a  map  that  called  the 
body  of  water  Lake  Bonneville.  A  map  in  Bradford's 
Comprehensive  Atlas,  published  in  1835,  spoke  of  it  as 
Lake  Timpanogas.  John  Bidwell,  who  went  to  Califor 
nia  with  the  first  emigrant  train  in  1841,  wrote  in  The 
Century  (November,  1890) : 

Our  ignorance  of  the  route  was  complete.  We 
knew  that  California  lay  west,  and  that  was  the  extent 
of  our  knowledge.  Some  of  the  maps  consulted,  sup 
posed  of  course  to  be  correct,  showed  a  lake  in  the 
vicinity  of  where  Salt  Lake  now  is ;  it  was  represented 

13  193 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

as  a  long  lake,  three  or  four  hundred  miles  in  extent, 
narrow  and  with  two  outlets,  both  running  into  the 
Pacific  Ocean,  either  apparently  larger  than  the  Missis 
sippi  River.  An  intelligent  man  with  whom  I  boarded 
.  .  .  possessed  a  map  that  showed  these  rivers  to  be 
large,  and  he  advised  me  to  take  tools  along  to  make 
canoes,  so  that  if  we  found  the  country  so  rough  that 
we  could  not  get  along  with  our  wagon  we  could  descend 
one  of  these  rivers  to  the  Pacific.  Even  Fremont  knew 
nothing  about  Salt  Lake  until  1843,  when  for  the  first 
time  he  explored  it  and  mapped  it  correctly. 

The  rails  of  the  Western  Pacific  Railroad,  which  lead 
directly  west  from  Salt  Lake  City,  along  the  southern 
shore  of  the  lake,  rest  for  many  miles  on  a  layer  of 
salt  from  six  to  eight  feet  in  thickness,  until  the  road 
comes  to  the  Toano  Mountains,  that  were  the  western 
limit  of  the  old  Lake  Bonneville.  This  was  the  route 
of  the  overland  emigrant  trails.  The  Central  Pacific, 
after  crossing  the  lake,  is  joined  by  the  newer  road, 
some  distance  on  in  Nevada. 

Nevada  takes  its  name  from  the  Sierra  Nevada 
Mountains ;  the  name  means  snowy.  The  salt  incrusta 
tions  on  the  desert  as  well  as  the  snow  on  some  of  the 
peaks  that  rise  from  ten  to  eleven  thousand  feet  make 
the  name  peculiarly  appropriate.  The  railroads  wind 
in  and  out  of  less  imposing  peaks  of  from  four  thousand 
to  six  thousand  feet,  so  that  the  traveler  is  apt  to  forget 
that  in  the  sixty-five  groups  or  chains  of  mountains 
in  the  state  there  are  peaks  as  high  as  thirteen  thou 
sand  feet. 

Even  amid  the  salt,  the  sand  and  the  mountains, 
there  are  bits  of  agricultural  land.  Near  Wells  there 
are  great  herds  of  cattle  and  sheep,  while  near  Winne- 

194 


LOOKING    DOWN    OGDEN    CANYON 


PALISADE    CANYON,    NEVADA 


GREAT  SALT   LAKE   TO  SACRAMENTO 

mucca,  along  the  Humboldt  Eiver,  are  comparatively 
fertile  districts.  Tributary  to  the  Truckee-Carson 
Reclamation  Project,  near  the  western  border,  there 
is  pleasing  evidence  of  agricultural  prosperity.  These 
fertile  lands  are  visible  from  the  Central  Pacific  and 
from  the  Lincoln  Highway. 

Wells  was  a  longed-for  spot  in  the  days  of  the  emi 
grants.  In  a  meadow  not  far  from  the  railroad  are 
scores  of  springs,  varying  in  size  from  a  few  inches 
to  three  or  four  rods  across.  These  flow  most  freely 
in  the  autumn  months,  but  at  all  times  there  is 
ample  water. 

In  these  springs  one  of  the  branches  of  the  curious 
Humboldt  Eiver  has  its  source,  but  the  main  source  is 
far  to  the  northeast.  This  oddity  among  rivers  begins, 
has  its  entire  course  of  about  one  thousand  miles,  and 
ends  within  one  state,  and  is  the  longest  river  in  the 
country  of  which  this  is  true.  Fifteen  thousand  square 
miles  are  drained  by  the  river  and  its  tributaries.  It  is 
a  high  altitude  river ;  its  source  is  seven  thousand  feet 
high,  and  it  loses  itself  in  Humboldt  Lake,  near  the  west 
ern  border  of  the  state,  at  forty-one  hundred  feet  above 
the  sea.  Further,  it  furnishes  the  only  possible  passage 
from  the  east  to  the  west  through  the  Humboldt  Moun 
tains  ;  this  explains  the  neighborliness  of  the  two  rail 
roads  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  miles  from  Wells  to 
Winnemucca.  At  this  point  they  separate,  because 
they  are  bound  for  different  passes  across  the  Sierra 
Nevada  Mountains. 

There  are  further  strange  facts  about  the  Humboldt 
Eiver.  Its  average  width  is  but  forty  feet,  and  its 
average  depth  less  than  two  feet.  Humboldt  Lake, 

195 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

into  which  it  empties,  has  no  outlet,  except  in  the 
season  of  melting  snow,  when  the  waters  overflow  into 
Carson  Sink. 

The  stream  was  unknown  to  white  men  until  1828, 
when  it  was  seen  by  some  fur  hunters.  The  name  was 
given  to  it  by  General  Fremont  in  1844. 

For  many  miles  the  sluggish  waters  of  the  Humboldt 
have  cut  a  channel  through  the  debris  left  by  Lake 
Lahontan,  the  prehistoric  body  of  fresh  water  that 
stretched  for  250  miles  from  north  to  south  and  for  180 
miles  from  east  to  west.  An  enormous  mountainous 
island  was  enclosed  by  the  water.  Close  observation 
of  some  of  the  mountain  sides  visible  from  the  rail 
road  show  beach  lines  of  the  old  lake  that  was  about 
four  hundred  feet  deep  in  the  Carson  district  and  some 
nine  hundred  feet  deep  at  Pyramid  Lake,  whose  waters 
are  close  to  the  California  boundary,  and  between 
the  diverging  tracks  of  the  Central  Pacific  and  the 
Western  Pacific. 

Pyramid  Lake,  thirty  miles  long,  with  its  encircling 
rim  of  rugged,  snow-capped  mountains,  its  bird  reser 
vation,  Anaho  Island,  where  pelicans  live  undisturbed, 
and  the  Pyramid  Eock,  make  the  ride  thither  by  a  branch 
railroad  a  worth-while  trip  for  any  tourist. 

From  the  south,  into  Pyramid  Lake,  flows  Truckee 
Eiver,  whose  course  is  brief  though  varied.  At  first  it 
flows  through  the  foothills,  with  thick  forests  about  it, 
but  it  enters  the  Truckee  Meadows  at  Eeno,  the  old 
Lakes  Crossing  of  the  pioneers,  who  here  heaved  a  sigh 
of  relief  when  they  left  the  desert  waste  behind  them  and 
saw  the  clear  water  and  the  green  slopes  ahead. 

The  modern  tourist  by  automobile  who  approaches 
California  by  the  Salt  Lake  City  Eoute  has  offered  to 

196 


GREAT  SALT  LAKE   TO  SACRAMENTO 

him  an  embarrassment  of  riches  when  he  approaches  the 
California  line.  He  can  keep  on  through  Truckee,  rush 
ing  on  toward  Sacramento  by  the  route  paralleling  the 
Southern  Pacific  Bailroad — then  he  will  have  the  disad 
vantage  of  passing  by  Lake  Tahoe  unless  he  makes  a 
side  trip,  and  will  have  the  advantage  of  the  railway 
passenger  who  must  ride  through  weary  miles  of  snow- 
sheds  on  both  sides  of  the  summit;  he  can  go  south 
from  Eeno  to  Carson  City  and  on  by  the  King's  Canyon 
Grade  to  Glenbrook,  on  the  Nevada  shore  of  Lake 
Tahoe,  of  which  Isabella  Bird  said,  "I  have  found  a 
dream  of  beauty  at  which  one  might  look  all  one  Js  life 
and  sigh."  Then  it  is  well  worth  while  to  take  the 
steamer  for  the  seventy-two-mile  trip  around  the  shore 
line  of  the  lake,  passing  over  the  spot  where  soundings 
have  been  made  to  a  depth  of  two  thousand  feet,  and  no 
bottom  found,  defining  the  limits  of  Emerald  Bay,  that 
priceless  gem  hidden  away  near  the  southeast  section 
of  the  lake,  looking  up  now  at  the  lofty  Mt.  Tallac  and 
again  at  Pyramid  Mountain,  or  at  others  of  the  prodigal 
array  of  peaks  that  surround  the  lake  . 

At  Glenbrook  the  car  may  be  taken  once  more  and 
the  Nevada  shore  skirted  to  the  south  end  of  the  lake. 
Then  a  short  detour  leads  half-way  around  the  three- 
mile-long  Fallen  Leaf  Lake — a  lake  whose  charm  is  so 
great  that  the  region  would  be  famous  even  without 
Lake  Tahoe. 

And  there  are  scores  of  other  lakes  near  by.  Echo 
Lake  can  be  reached  by  a  short  detour  from  the  Lincoln 
Highway.  Soon  the  Supervisor  of  the  El  Dorado  For 
est  hopes  to  have  a  practicable  automobile  road  circling 
among  some  of  the  lakes,  to  the  shore  of  Tahoe  and 
back  again.  A  lover  of  the  trail  on  learning  of  his  plan 

197 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

said  he  hoped  it  would  not  be  carried  out ;  it  would  spoil 
a  trail  trip  to  Desolation  Valley  and  the  lakes  there  and 
beyond  that  now  wait  in  primitive  splendor  the  ap 
proach  of  those  who  take  what  this  enthusiast  asserts  is 
the  one  sensible  means  of  mountain  travel. 

There  is  an  easy  climb  of  fourteen  hundred  feet  from 
the  meadows  south  of  Lake  Tahoe  to  Summit  Pass, 
7630  feet.  A  clamber  over  the  rocks  at  the  roadside, 
and  a  lookout  station,  erected  by  the  Forest  Service  for 
the  convenience  of  travelers,  is  reached.  It  will  be 
found  a  difficult  task  to  turn  away  from  the  prospect 
from  this  eminence — the  lakes  stretching  away  toward 
Truckee,  the  mountains  of  California  and  Nevada,  the 
meadows,  where  cattle  graze  and  pine  trees  lift  their 
heads.  How  the  pioneers  who  toiled  this  way  must  have 
rejoiced  at  the  sight!  A  judiciously  placed  signboard 
directs  the  thoughts  to  their  privations : 

Emigrant  Trail  Marker  Number  3.  Abandoned  for 
a  smoother  and  lower  grade  and  long  since  forgotten. 
Just  below  may  be  seen  the  road  over  which  the  travel- 
worn  emigrant  gained  the  summit  of  the  Sierra  Nevada. 
A  view  of  the  ancient  path  is  worth  while.  Picture  in 
your  mind  the  straining  ox  team,  drawing  heavy- 
laden  wagons  over  steep  and  rocky  ways.  Compare 
the  comfortable  modes  of  travel  of  to-day  with  those 
of  yesterday. 

For  many  years  after  the  emigrant  ceased  to  pass 
this  way  in  large  numbers  this  was  the  teaming  road 
between  Carson  City  and  Sacramento.  During  the  sil 
ver  excitement  of  the  late  sixties  and  early  seventies 
freighters  were  always  in  evidence.  i '  I  remember  well 
how  thick  they  were,"  a  reminiscent  driver  said.  "All 
day  long  there  was  a  continuous  stream  of  wagons.  If, 

198 


GEEAT  SALT  LAKE  TO  SACRAMENTO 

for  any  reason,  one  of  the  outfits  fell  out  of  line  the 
driver  might  have  to  wait  by  the  roadside  for  hours 
before  he  could  find  place  in  the  procession  once  more. 
Stages  had  to  travel  by  night  to  make  the  distance. ' ' 

By  easy  grades  this  southern  road  to  Sacramento 
passes  through  pine  forests,  along  the  gorge  of  the 
South  Fork  of  the  American  Eiver,  past  Lover's  Leap, 
a  great  rock  seven  thousand  feet  high,  where  glaciation 
marks  are  plain,  on  to  Placerville,  the  pioneer  mining 
town,  long  known  as  Hangtown,  where  the  business 
street,  although  lined  with  modern  buildings,  still  has 
the  picturesque  appearance  of  days  gone  by,  while  the 
residence  streets  on  the  hillsides  follow  the  planless, 
helter-skelter  paths  used  by  the  miners  in  their  trips 
to  the  valley.  Above  the  town  is  old  Sacramento  Hill, 
with  its  tremendous  cutting,  from  which  millions  of 
dollars  in  gold  were  taken.  Eight  miles  to  one  side  old 
Coloma  keeps  watch  over  the  spot  on  the  American 
where  Edward  Marshall  found  the  first  gold  in  Sutter's 
mill-race — a  discovery  of  which  his  companion,  Aza- 
riah  Smith,  wrote  in  his  diary : 

Sept.  9, 1847.  Last  Wednesday  I  took  a  job  at  Sut- 
ter  to  dig  a  race  at  I2y2  cents  a  cubic  yard.  We  expect 
to  make  more  than  $10  a  day. 

Sunday,  Jan.  30,  1848.  This  week  Mr.  Marshall 
found  specimens  of  (as  we  suppose)  gold,  and  he  has 
gone  to  the  fort  for  the  purpose  of  finding  out  what 
it  is.  It  is  found  in  the  race  in  small  pieces ;  some  weigh 
as  much  as  a  five-dollar  piece.  .  .  . 

Sunday,  Feb.  6th.  Marshall  has  returned  with  the 
fact  that  the  metal  is  gold. 

And  this  was  the  matter-of-fact  record  of  an  event 
that  led  John  Bidwell,  pioneer  of  1841,  to  say: 

199 


SEEING  THE   FAR   WEST 

It  is  a  question  whether  the  United  States  could  have 
stood  the  shock  of  the  great  rebellion  of  1861  had  the 
California  gold  discovery  not  been  made.  .  .  .  The 
hand  of  Providence  so  plainly  seen  in  the  discovery 
of  gold  is  no  less  manifest  in  the  time  chosen  for 
its  accomplishment. 

On  a  height  overlooking  the  valley  a  grateful  state 
has  built  a  heroic  statue  to  the  discoverer.  His  out 
stretched  hand  points  to  the  scene  of  his  adventure,  and 
his  back  is  turned  to  the  lands  which  El  Dorado  County 
is  fast  developing  into  orchards  and  farms,  making 
ready  for  the  day  when  she  will  be  a  leader  in  wealth 
more  enduring  than  gold. 

When,  a  few  months  after  Marshall's  find  in  the 
mill-race,  the  harbor  of  San  Francisco  was  crowded 
with  sailing  vessels  that  had  brought  gold-mad  treas 
ure-seekers  around  the  Horn,  many  of  them  ascended 
the  river  to  Sacramento,  not  far  from  Coloma;  these 
vessels  had  no  difficulty  in  pushing  through,  though  they 
drew  as  much  as  fourteen  feet  of  water.  To-day,  how 
ever,  shallow  draft  stern-wheel  steamers,  specially  con 
structed  for  the  Sacramento  Eiver,  do  not  find  it  easy 
to  reach  the  capital  city  of  the  state.  Hydraulic  mining, 
which  filled  the  bed  of  the  stream  after  washing  down 
the  hills  along  the  tributaries,  is  responsible. 

Sacramento,  too,  has  seen  marvelous  changes.  Those 
who  pass  along  its  beautiful  streets  find  it  difficult  to 
realize  that  as  late  as  1861  the  exceedingly  dusty  high 
ways,  with  sidewalks  of  varying  level,  were  bordered 
by  a  rather  uninviting  array  of  one-  and  two-story 
buildings.  Even  then,  however,  the  bustling  city  of 
13,000  people  quickly  wove  its  spell  over  those  who  came 
to  live  there,  by  reason  of  its  brilliant  but  soft  autumnal 
200 


GREAT  SALT  LAKE  TO  SACRAMENTO 

sunshine,  its  equable  climate,  its  wealth  of  shade  trees 
and  perfume-bearing  flowers,  its  hospitable  and  unpre 
tentious  people  and  its  easy-going  ways. 

Late  that  autumn  the  city  by  the  Sacramento,  which 
had  already  suffered  from  an  epidemic  of  fires,  entered 
on  a  new  series  of  misfortunes.  Once  rains  began,  they 
were  frequent  and  copious,  with  snow  soon  visible  on  the 
peaks  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas,  some  fifty  miles  or  so 
to  the  east.  Presently  came  a  thaw.  On  December  9 
the  swollen  American  Eiver — normally  emptying  at 
right  angles  into  the  Sacramento  at  the  north  edge  of 
the  city — broke  through  its  dilapidated  levees  at  a  point 
some  two  miles  east,  and  put  the  city  under  water  so 
that  only  boats  could  use  the  streets.  There  was  at 
once  a  great  exodus.  A  succession  of  floods  followed. 
The  Sacramento  valley  was  for  months  one  vast  lake. 
By  June,  1862,  the  population  of  the  city  had  dwindled 
to  about  7000,  and  this  reduced  body  of  not  rich  people, 
with  deflated  business,  had  at  once  to  tax  itself  half  a 
million  dollars  extra  for  new  levees,  specially  along  the 
American  Eiver,  where  the  piles  of  dirt  came  very  handy 
in  1863  for  Governor  Leland  Stanford  and  his  associ 
ates,  Huntingdon,  Hopkins  and  Goelet,  serving  them  as 
a  roadbed  for  the  first  section  of  the  Central  Pacific 
Eailroad  which  they  were  then  starting  to  build  at  much 
cost  of  hardship  and  a  chorus  of  jeers  and  predictions 
of  failure  from  the  pessimistic  masses  of  the  disheart 
ened  people. 

"Stout-hearted  little  Sacramento!"  wrote  an  ad 
mirer  in  1870,  "that  was  not  dismayed  by  the  wasting 
fires  and  the  flood,  that  was  not  turned  back  from 
her  large  enterprise  by  the  hootings  and  jeers  of 
small  souls." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

FROM  SAN  DIEGO  TO  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 

CALIFORNIA  is  the  home  of  superb  highways. 
From  one  end  of  the  State  to  the  other,  and  from 
the  Pacific  to  the  Sierras,  marvels  of  the  road 
builder's  art  lead  through  scenes  of  persistent  and 
ever-varied  appeal.  Frequently  a  visitor  is  heard  to 
say,  with  a  sigh,  at  the  close  of  a  day  of  delightful 
progress  through  some  fascinating  succession  of  Cali 
fornia  kaleidoscopic  landscape  pictures,  "To-morrow 
can  hold  nothing  better  than  this."  Yet,  at  the  close 
of  the  next  day  he  is  apt  to  own  that  California's  motto, 
in  scenery  as  in  so  many  other  things,  is  "Better  yet  to 
come. ' '  And  this  is  true  whether  the  visitor  starts  his 
journeyings  in  the  north,  about  Mt.  Shasta,  on  the  west, 
at  San  Francisco,  on  the  east,  at  Lake  Tahoe,  or  in  the 
far  south,  at  San  Diego. 

But  wherever  the  beginning  is  made,  San  Diego 
must  be  seen  before  the  state  is  left  behind — San  Diego, 
of  the  romantic  antecedents ;  San  Diego,  the  Determined ; 
San  Diego,  the  Conqueror  of  Obstacles.  In  spite  of  all 
the  visitor  has  read  of  the  attractions  of  the  city  set 
like  a  gem  on  the  slope  that  looks  down  on  its  beautiful 
land-locked  harbor, — to  the  left  Coronado  Beach  and  its 
great  hotel ;  in  front  Point  Loma,  with  its  ten-mile  drive 
on  the  height  between  the  Pacific  and  the  bay — he  is  not 
disappointed.  For  San  Diego  is  like  a  bit  of  fairyland 
—by  night,  when  the  lights  are  seen  either  from  some 
commanding  height,  or  from  the  dream-like  central 
plaza ;  by  day,  when  the  call  is  to  the  streets  that  give 

202 


SAN   DIEGO  TO  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 

a  view  of  the  poetic  setting  of  this  city  of  Eamona,  or 
to  fourteen-hundred-acre  Balboa  Park.  Until  a  few 
years  ago  this  park  was  a  barren  waste,  but  now  it  is 
a  bower  of  beauty,  with  its  startling  landscape  effects, 
its  bridge  spanning  the  gorge  that  is  a  fitting  approach 
to  the  low-lying  palaces,  reminder  of  the  Exposition, 
and  its  rose  garden,  which,  even  in  a  region  re 
nowned  for  its  flowers,  is  a  riot  of  harmony  and 
color  and  perfume. 

But  it  is  a  mistake  to  think  that  when  the  city  itself 
has  been  seen  it  is  time  to  hasten  on  to  Los  Angeles 
and  the  north.  For,  while  San  Diego  is  absolutely  worth 
while,  San  Diego's  back-country  is  even  more  alluring 
than  the  city.  Some  visitors  go  away  with  the  fond 
notion  that  they  have  seen  this  back-country  when  they 
have  made  their  pilgrimage  south  to  Tia  Juana,  over  the 
Mexican  border  in  Lower  California,  or  have  taken  an 
hour 's  ride  on  the  boulevard-like  roads  to  the  west.  And 
they  have  not  made  a  beginning. 

The  real  back-country  of  San  Diego  has  been  opened 
up  by  the  building  of  the  Imperial  Highway  and  con 
necting  roads,  notably  the  road  to  the  Lagunas,  recently 
constructed  with  admirable  skill  under  the  auspices  of 
the  United  States  Forest  Service,  whose  Cleveland 
National  Forest  is  protecting  the  watersheds,  securing 
ample  water  supply  for  hundreds  of  thousands  of  people 
as  well  as  for  the  growers  of  fruits  and  grain,  and 
providing  recreation  areas  for  all  who  live  in  the  region 
from  the  Pacific  to  the  Arizona  line. 

The  road  to  the  Lagunas  winds  in  and  out  of  the  hills, 
along  the  valleys  and  across  the  ridges,  past  Mt.  Helix, 
with  cross  on  summit,  where  sunrise  services  are  held 
on  Easter  morning,  and  within  sight  of  the  slope  over- 

203 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

looking  the  rich  El  Cajon  valley.  Then  comes  the  Val 
ley  de  las  Viejas,  with  its  abrupt  hills  on  the  left — a 
valley  whose  legend  is  told  by  an  old  Indian  woman, 
for  years  helper  in  the  kitchen  at  Hulburd  Grove,  the 
convenient  half-way  station  for  travelers  to  the  La- 
gunas.  In  the  days  before  the  white  man  arrived,  In 
dians  lived  happily  in  the  valley.  But  one  day  came  the 
tidings  that  the  Spaniards  were  advancing  from  the 
coast,  and  the  warning  that  wherever  these  men  ap 
peared  the  Indians  were  treated  cruelly.  So  at  a 
solemn  council  it  was  decided  that  all  the  strong  men 
and  women  should  hide  in  the  mountain,  leaving  behind 
only  the  old  women  and  the  men  who  were  past  fighting. 
"What  if  they  do  kill  us?"  said  those  thus  marked  for 
sacrifice.  "We  are  useless;  let  us  die."  Thus  when 
the  Spaniards  came  they  found  no  one  whom  they 
could  fight;  so  they  called  the  place  "the  Valley  of 
Old  Women." 

If  the  story  is  true,  some  of  those  who  fled  from  the 
strange  visitors  must  have  taken  the  picturesque  trail 
over  the  Deerhorn  Mountains,  by  the  Sweetwater  Gorge, 
which  is  followed  by  the  Imperial  Highway.  Then 
comes  Descanso  (Best).  Just  beyond  Descanso  is  Hul 
burd  Grove  amid  the  live  oaks,  on  the  banks  of 
the  Sweetwater. 

From  Hulburd  Grove  as  a  center  the  way  is  open 
either  to  the  Laguna  Mountains,  a  tract  of  natural  forest 
about  five  or  six  miles  wide  by  ten  or  twelve  miles  long, 
some  sixty  miles  east  of  San  Diego,  at  an  elevation  of 
from  five  thousand  to  six  thousand  feet,  approached 
by  a  gradual  and  comparatively  easy  climb,  or  to  the 
country  of  the  Cuyamaca  Mountains,  farther  north,  a 
region  not  less  beautiful  but  with  striking  differences. 

204 


SAN  DIEGO   TO  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 

While  it  is  possible  to  make  both  trips  in  a  single  day, 
it  is  better  to  allow  a  longer  time. 

The  vegetation  along  the  road  to  the  Lagunas  is 
varied.  At  first  there  is  an  abundance  of  live  oak  trees 
with  their  gnarled  trunks,  spreading  branches  and  deep 
shade,  but  gradually  these  give  way  to  the  mountain 
deciduous  oaks  and  to  the  pine  trees.  Thousands  of 
these  stately  pines  bear  the  marks  of  old  blazes ;  the 
Indians  have  a  tradition  that  many  years  ago  white 
men  came  to  the  forest,  tapped  the  trees  and  carried 
away  the  turpentine,  at  the  same  time  making  the  ex 
planation  that  far  away  there  was  a  great  war,  and  that 
the  side  that  had  the  most  white  sap  would  win.  This 
tradition  dates  back  to  the  days  of  the  war  between  the 
North  and  the  South,  when  the  North's  natural  supply 
of  turpentine  was  cut  off. 

Under  the  pines  the  ground  is  carpeted  with  the 
fragrant,  slippery  needles  where  campers  delight  to 
make  their  beds  beneath  the  great  trunks  whose  bark 
has  been  peppered  by  the  industrious  woodpecker  in 
the  search  for  insects,  and  into  these  holes  the  equally 
industrious  and  more  provident  squirrel  snugly  fits  his 
acorns  against  the  day  of  dire  need  when  snow  lies  thick 
on  the  ground. 

Now  the  slopes  are  covered  with  the  bright  colored 
bronco  grass ;  again  there  are  natural  highland  meadows 
where  the  cattle  graze.  And  everywhere  there  are  bril 
liant  flowers — the  gigantic  white  matillaha  poppy,  the 
scarlet  bugler,  the  Indian  paintbrush,  whose  tint  seems 
to  become  deeper  as  the  altitude  increases,  the  white 
lilac,  the  Alpine  phlox,  the  wallflower,  and  the  purple 
penstamen.  As  the  season  advances  the  wild  growth 
changes,  but  always  there  is  striking  variety. 

205 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

With  one  of  the  sudden  changes  of  view  for  which 
the  road  to  the  Lagunas  is  remarkable,  [Pine  Valley 
appears,  an  upland  floor  of  emerald  in  a  frame  of  brush- 
covered  mountains.  At  the  entrance  to  the  valley  are 
deep  gorges  cut  in  the  floor  during  two  seasons  of  the 
past  twenty  years,  seasons  of  great  forest  fires,  and  so 
an  object  lesson  of  the  destructive  power  of  flood 
waters  that  were  not  restrained  by  the  protecting 
brush  covering. 

Along  the  rugged  slopes  above  Pine  Valley  climbs 
the  forest  road,  presenting  vistas  across  the  valley  to 
the  Cuyamacas,  and  back  through  mountain  passes  to 
the  blue  Pacific,  sixty  miles  away.  Then  on  through  the 
forest  where  inviting  camping  grounds  have  been  made 
available  for  the  dwellers  by  the  sea  or  for  the  denizens 
of  the  desert  or  the  hot  but  fertile  Imperial  Valley; 
past  the  site  of  an  old  Indian  village,  where  the  rocks 
are  full  of  pot  holes,  marks  of  the  old  campfires ;  then 
to  the  Banger  Station  where  record  is  kept  of  the 
campers  who  seek  this  favored  spot  and  where  permits 
are  given  for  the  building  of  campfires  to  those  who 
faithfully  promise  to  be  more  careful  than  a  man  of 
whom  the  Service  tells  with  finger  upraised  in  warning : 

Tom  Tourist  always  planned  his  fishing  trips  right 
carefully.  WThen  it  came  to  having  a  good  time,  Tom 
was  on  the  job.  So  he  always  got  his  National  Forest 
maps,  studied  them  carefully,  and  agreed  fully  with  all 
the  suggestions  for  care  with  fire  in  the  mountains. 

He  was  an  old-timer  at  the  game,  and  knew  what  a 
fire  in  the  timber  would  mean.  He  also  knew  that  Uncle 
Sam  needed  the  help  of  every  American  in  Uncle 's  big 
new  job  of  helping  half  the  world  to  get  on  its  feet  again 
after  taking  the  Will  out  of  Wilhelm. 

So  Tom  Tourist,  for  the  first  200  miles,  was  so  care- 

206 


SAN   DIEGO  TO  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 

f ul  that  it  hurt.  Then  a  Eanger  saw  him  flip  a  lighted 
cigarette  alongside  the  road.  Now  Tom  didn't  mean 
any  real  harm,  and  the  talk  he  got  stayed  with  him  until 
he  was  ready  for  the  run  home. 

" Let's  go,"  said  Tom,  early  one  morning.  He 
packed  the  trout  carefully — but  he  left  without  putting 
his  campfire  out. 

Five  million  feet  of  timber  went  up  in  smoke.  Fred 
Farmer  and  his  neighbors  for  ten  miles  around  had 
to  let  their  crops  stand  while  they  fought  fire  for 
two  weeks.  One  thousand  acres  of  God's  country  was 
ruined  for  years  to  come. 

Tom's  friends  now  go  elsewhere.     Tom  goes  to  jail. 

Not  far  from  the  station  where  vigilant  Eangers 
have  headquarters  for  the  campaign  of  fire  preven 
tion  and  fire  conquest,  the  road  leads  to  the  brink 
of  a  precipice  where  there  opens  with  startling  sud 
denness  a  view  that  compels  silence  in  the  manifest 
presence  of  the  world's  Creator.  Far  below  and  be 
yond  is  a  vision  that  is  like  a  prospect  from  an  aero 
plane — the  arid  desert,  with  its  barren,  broiling  ridges ; 
the  Imperial  Valley,  rich  and  green  and  fruitful;  the 
Salton  Sea,  mystery  of  the  sand-swept  basin  beneath 
the  level  of  the  sea ;  and  the  mountains  beyond,  in  Ari 
zona,  visible  on  a  clear  day.  Where  else  is  there  a 
panorama  to  compare  with  this?  Look  at  it  through 
the  setting  nature  has  provided — on  either  hand  ridges 
jutting  from  the  height  at  the  feet  of  the  beholder,  pine 
trees  rising  from  the  brink,  their  branches  making  sil 
houettes  against  the  blue  sky,  all  parts  of  a  frame  that 
sets  off  Desert  View  as  a  place  apart. 

A  view  still  more  extensive  is  that  from  the  near-by 
summit  of  Monument  Peak,  6321  feet  high,  or  more 
than  three  hundred  feet  above  Desert  View.  Here  more 

207 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

of  the  upper  desert  is  visible.  Far  below  and  away 
to  the  east  wends  the  old  San  Felipe  trail,  with  the 
ruined  stage  station  in  the  pass,  leading  to  the  Salton 
Sea,  and  later  to  the  Imperial  Valley.  A  backward 
look  shows  the  waters  of  the  Pacific,  seventy  miles  away. 
Then  a  forward  turn,  with  Arizona  beyond.  Three  hun 
dred  miles  of  mountain  and  valley  and  desert,  visible 
on  a  clear  day  from  one  summit — the  entire  width  of 
golden,  blooming,  desert-defying  California! 

To  the  northwest  Cuyamaca  lifts  its  divided  head — 
another  of  the  summits  that  should  be  approached  from 
the  vicinity  of  Descanso.  The  road  that  leads  to  the 
mountain  is  bordered  by  live  oaks,  so  that  it  seems  more 
like  an  arbor  than  a  mountain  way.  Up  Green  Valley 
it  winds,  through  the  old  Spanish  grant  Cuyamaca, 
32,000  acres  in  extent,  past  the  abandoned  Stonewall 
gold  mine,  where  fortunes  have  been  gained  and  lost, 
to  the  borders  of  Cuyamaca  Lake,  the  source  of 
the  water  supply  of  some  of  the  smaller  towns  near 
the  coast. 

Here,  where  there  is  the  smallest  rainfall  in  all  the 
region,  Indian  legends,  in  pleasing  manner,  give  hint 
of  the  value  the  residents  have  always  placed  on  water. 
They  tell  of  a  great  ogre  who  once  lived  in  Green  Valley. 
He  liked  cold  water,  and  he  liked  Indian  maidens.  No 
water  he  could  find  was  cold  enough  for  him,  so  he  made 
a  spring  on  Cuyamaca,  which  he  called  "  Ah -ha!  Wi-ah- 
ha!"  (Water,  Colder  Water.)  To  this  spring  he  sent 
his  most  beautiful  Indian  maiden  captive,  bidding  her 
fetch  water  for  him,  and  making  threat  of  dire  punish 
ment  if  she  should  permit  it  to  become  brackish.  But 
at  the  spring  she  prayed  for  release  from  bondage.  The 
spirit  of  the  spring  engulfed  her,  and  there  she  has 

208 


ON    THE    ROAD    ABOVE    CUYAMACA    LAKE.       THE    ARCHED    TREE 
IS    A    SUGAR    PINE 


SAN  DIEGO  TO  THE  IMPERIAL  VALLEY 

dwelt  in  safety  ever  since,  making  the  waters  of  the 
spring  even  cooler  and  more  delicious. 

Another  legend  tells  of  trouble  that  came  when  the 
spring  Water,  Colder  Water,  betrothed  herself  to  Water 
Sweet,  the  stream  that  flowed  down  the  sides  of  Pine 
Tree  Peak  into  Green  Valley.  The  betrothal  brought 
to  a  head  jealousy  among  the  peaks.  For  the  mountain 
Ah -ha  Kwe-ah-mac  (Cuyamaca)  felt  superior  to  Pine 
Tree  because  he,  together  with  another  mountain,  wore 
beautiful  long  hair  of  sweet-smelling  pines  and  cedar 
trees,  while  the  head  of  Pine  Tree  was  covered  with 
lilac,  elm,  and  much  scrub  and  brush — short  hair  that 
was  a  sign  of  servitude.  So  when  Pine  Tree  said  that 
he  had  always  sheltered  Water  Sweet  and  that  Cuya 
maca  's  Water,  Colder  Water,  should  not  be  betrothed  to 
her,  jealousy  led  to  blows.  There  was  an  awful  up 
heaval.  Finally  Pine  Tree,  conquered,  was  compelled 
to  take  refuge  in  the  midst  of  mountains  with  short- 
cropped  hair,  far  from  Green  Valley,  where  dwelt 
Cuyamaca  and  his  sister  peaks. 

And  for  proof  the  Indians  point  triumphantly  to 
the  fact  that  Pine  Tree  (Corta  Madera)  now  dwells 
apart,  and  to  the  further  fact  that  while  Cuyamaca 
has  majestic  covering  of  pine  and  cedar,  Corta  Madera 
hangs  his  head  because  there  is  nothing  but  brush  to 
clothe  his  nakedness. 


14 


CHAPTER  XXII 
IN  AND  ABOUT  LOS  ANGELES 

THOSE  who  are  jealous  of  Los  Angeles  call  her 
boastful  and  self-sufficient,  but  those  who  know 
best  the  City  of  the  Angels  say  that  back  of 
every  boast  is  a  substantial  fact,  and  that  her  record  of 
achievements  has  given  her  some  right  to  seem  self- 
sufficient.    Perhaps  it  would  be  fairer  to  call  the  city 
proud  of  things  accomplished  rather  than  boastful,  and 
resourceful  rather  than  self-sufficient. 

Not  long  ago  a  dinner  was  given  by  public-spirited 
citizens  of  Los  Angeles  to  which  all  were  invited  who 
had  been  residents  of  the  city  since  1890!  That  late 
date  seems  absurd,  until  the  appearance  of  the  city 
only  a  generation  ago  is  recalled.  That  was  indeed  a 
day  of  ambitious  beginnings,  of  ardent  hopes,  of  wild 
prophecies.  But  who  in  that  day  had  faith  to  picture 
the  Los  Angeles,  of  to-day,  sitting  serenely  many  miles 
from  the  water,  yet  reaching  out  tentacles  to  the  Pacific 
until  she  has  become  a  seaport;  taking  tribute  from 
hosts  of  tourists,  and  giving  more  than  value  received 
to  all  her  visitors ;  rebuilding  a  second  and  a  third  and 
even  a  fourth  time  her  business  center  until  structures 
that  seemed  grand  in  1890  to-day — wherever  they  sur 
vive — seem  almost  grotesque;  cutting  down  hills  that 
hindered  her  growth ;  developing  vast  areas  of  comfort 
able  homes  embowered  in  bloom;  compelling  the  far 
away  mountains  to  send  to  her,  across  the  desert  and  the 
valleys,  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  water !  Yet  that  is 
Los  Angeles — only  let  it  be  remembered  that  there  must 
210 


IN  AND   ABOUT   LOS   ANGELES 

be  added  brilliant  sunshine  as  well  as  (though  usually 
in  a  strictly  limited  and  homoeopathic  manner)  an  ex 
ceedingly  wet  rainfall ;  pleasure  spaces  even  in  the  heart 
of  the  city,  though  the  grounds  of  mansion  and  bunga 
low  alike  seem  to  be  trying  to  make  parks  unnecessary ; 
houses  where  there  are  real  homes,  and  folks  who  are 
homelike  and  hospitable;  churches  that  can  give 
pointers  to  the  East  in  many  things,  even  if  many 
of  the  people  seem  to  prefer  pride  in  church  buildings 
to  attendance  on  the  services ;  school  equipment  that  sets 
the  pace  for  numerous  other  communities — as  well  as 
scores  of  other  things  that  are  named  unblushingly  by 
the  Chamber  of  Commerce.  And  why  not? 

One  boast  most  emphatically  made  is  of  the  fifteen- 
mile-long  recreation  area  along  the  coast  from  Eedondo 
on  the  south  to  Santa  Monica  on  the  north,  including 
far-famed  Venice,  whose  buildings  are  supposed  to  lend 
a  Mediterranean  atmosphere  to  the  scene,  while  lagoons 
and  gondolas  are  planned  for  the  pleasure  of  those  who 
wish  they  could  go  to  the  smiling  city  by  the  Adriatic, 
or  who  desire  to  satisfy  the  craving  for  the  Venetian 
atmosphere  in  which  they  revelled  once  upon  a  time. 
It  is  to  be  feared,  however,  that  to  those  who  know  the 
real  Venice  the  California  borrower  of  the  name  is  a 
hollow  mockery,  though  it  has  enough  charm  of  its  own 
to  make  entirely  unnecessary  its  claim  to  likeness  to  the 
only  original  city  with  its  feet  in  the  water. 

Between  Los  Angeles  and  the  lower  seaside  resorts 
is  an  area  usually  passed  over  hurriedly  by  the  visitor, 
perhaps  because  his  attention  has  not  been  called  to  it 
as  among  the  chief  attractions  of  the  city.  This  slighted, 
yet  most  interesting  section,  is  a  portion  of  the  vast 
market-gardening  acreage  surrounding  the  city,  or 

211 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

within  the  limits.  There  the  Chinese  toil  with  pains 
taking  perseverance,  and  the  Japanese  make  their 
leased  ground  produce  an  abundant  harvest,  while  the 
Mexicans — almost  always  lacking  in  initiative,  purpose 
or  patience — sometimes  are  found  at  work  for  their 
fellows  from  the  Orient. 

There  are  those  who  say  that  they  would  not  like 
to  eat  food  prepared,  or  even  grown,  by  a  Chinese 
or  Japanese  laborer.  But  if  their  objection  is  due  to 
the  notion  that  these  men  are  not  cleanly  in  their  habits, 
it  would  be  worth  while  to  spend  a  few  hours  in  the 
shacks  or  in  the  fields  of  these  market  gardeners. 

For  instance,  one  might  eat  dinner  with  the  China 
men  who  have  just  come  from  the  field.  It  will  be  a 
meal  far  different  from  that  served  in  a  Chinese  res 
taurant,  where  tourists  who  partake  of  tea  and  con 
fections  fondly  fancy  that  they  are  sampling  Chinese 
cooking.  After  watching  the  laborers  wash  their  hands 
with  care,  follow  them  to  the  table.  It  is  covered  with 
an  oilcloth,  but  the  oilcloth  is  clean.  The  floor  is  of 
dirt,  but  there  is  no  litter  about.  The  food  has  been 
cooked  in  great  kettles  over  a  most  primitive  stove,  but 
neither  kettle  nor  stove  looks  forbidding. 

The  main  dish  on  the  table  is,  of  course,  rice.  And 
such  rice !  How  do  they  manage  to  cook  a  great  kettle- 
full,  ten  times  as  much  as  would  be  used  by  an  ordinary 
family,  and  in  a  comparatively  short  time,  so  that  every 
grain  stands  out  by  itself,  without  one  particle  of  mois 
ture  visible  I  Each  man  in  turn  fills  his  individual  bowl, 
one  first,  however,  making  the  privilege  of  serving 
the  guest.  For  the  eight  men  at  table  there  are  two  sets 
of  four  small  subordinate  dishes — delicious  greens  of  a 
peculiar  kind  which  the  gardeners  do  not  sell,  but  re- 
212 


ff- 


ELYSIAN    PARK,    NEAR    THE    HEART    OI'1    LOS    ANGELES 


IN  THE  SAN  GABRIEL  VALLEY,  NEAR  RIVERSIDE,  CALIFORNIA.      AN  ORANGE 
GROVE    IN    SIGHT    OF    THE    SNOW 


IN  AND  ABOUT  LOS  ANGELES 

serve  for  their  own  use ;  peas  and  shredded  pork ;  bits 
of  dried  fish ;  and  what  they  call  Chinese  potato.  From 
these  dishes  each  takes  a  tidbit  as  he  happens  to  want  it, 
laying  it  in  his  bowl  of  rice,  then  taking  it  to  his  mouth 
with  his  chopsticks.  The  rice  is  eaten,  not  by  lifting  the 
grains  by  the  chopsticks,  but  by  holding  the  bowl  to  the 
mouth  and,  with  the  chopsticks,  shoving  their  staff  of 
life  in  a  manner  that  to  the  observer  seems  the  only 
natural  method.  From  time  to  time  the  men  turn 
to  the  guest  and  ask  him  if  he  will  have  more  of  the 
rice  or  the  other  dishes.  When  they  are  satisfied,  the 
cook  quickly  clears  the  table,  throws  everything  left 
over  to  the  chickens,  cleans  the  dishes  in  eminently 
orthodox  fashion,  and  turns  aside  to  share  with  his 
fellows  the  delights  of  the  water  pipe — though  it  is 
difficult  to  see  what  delight  there  can  be  in  taking  a 
smoke  when  each  minute  bit  of  tobacco,  just  enough 
for  a  single  whiff,  must  be  lighted  repeatedly. 

"Me  glad!  You  come  tomollow!"  was  the  parting 
message  of  the  master  workman,  who  bowed  low  as 
the  visitor  passed  on  to  the  near-by  home  of  a  Japanese 
gardener  who  had  outside  his  kitchen  door  a  lean-to 
that  looked  like  a  smokehouse.  There  was  a  place  for 
a  fire  under  a  stone  hearth  beneath  the  building *s  foun 
dation,  and  the  boards  above  it  were  charred  by  the 
smoke  of  months.  The  smiling  Japanese  wife  opened 
the  door,  and  disclosed  nothing  but  a  galvanized  iron 
receptacle  perhaps  six  times  the  size  of  a  washtub. 
Then  she  explained  that  when  her  husband  came  home 
from  the  field  in  the  evening  it  is  his  habit  to  light  the 
fire  under  the  absurd-looking  tub,  step  into  the  vessel, 
turn  on  the  hydrant,  and  wait  there  in  luxury  while 
the  water  slowly  heated.  Then  he  would  remain  an 

213 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

unbelievably  long  time  while  the  water  became  bliss 
fully  hot.  At  last  he  would  be  ready  for  the  sleep  that 
would  fit  him  for  another  day  of  toil. 

From  the  market-gardening  section  the  way  is  easy 
to  the  beaches  and  then  back  toward  the  city,  with  the 
Santa  Monica  Mountains  on  the  north,  past  numerous 
moving  picture  establishments,  each  with  its  silhouettes 
of  buildings — mining  camps,  oriental  villages,  and  the 
like.  Though  the  rule  of  "no  admittance  except  on 
business"  is  rigidly  enforced,  it  is  possible  to  see  the 
arrival  and  departure  of  would-be  vampires,  as  well 
as  of  many  hopeful  young  girls  with  hair  dressed  to 
imitate  popular  stars. 

Across  the  upper  end  of  the  city,  at  Hollywood,  one 
of  the  cinema  concerns  has  the  advantage  of  the  foothills 
at  the  back  of  the  studio,  and  here  innumerable  rescues 
and  searches  for  the  lost  in  the  wilderness  have  been 
staged.  It  is  remarkable  to  see  how  limited  a  space 
is  required  for  some  of  the  long-continued  chases  of 
fleeing  bandits  or  runaway  lovers ! 

The  boulevard  that  leads  towards  San  Fernando  has 
probably  been  chosen  for  the  scene  of  numerous  film 
dramas ;  its  double  roadway,  with  roses  thickly  placed 
on  both  sides  of  each  section,  provides  a  setting  on  which 
more  than  one  searcher  for  locations  has  fixed  his  eyes. 

Beyond  lies  San  Fernando,  one  of  the  most  pic 
turesque  of  the  old  missions  built  along  El  Camino  Eeal. 
What  an  eye  to  grandeur  of  setting  those  Spanish  mis 
sion  builders  had !  San  Fernando  is  in  an  amphitheatre, 
whose  bounds  are  fixed  by  the  Santa  Monica  Mountains, 
the  Simi  Hills,  the  Santa  Susana  Mountains,  and  the 
Verdugo  Hills — slopes  now  green,  now  brown,  but 
always  protecting  to  the  mission  in  the  fertile  valley. 

214 


IN  AND  ABOUT  LOS  ANGELES 

Fortunately  f  cr  the  pleasure  of  the  visitor  of  to-day, 
practically  nothing  has  yet  been  done  to  restore  the 
crumbling  walls  of  one  of  the  two  main  buildings,  though 
a  modern  chapel  has  been  placed  in  the  buildings  by  the 
roadside  whose  cloisters,  still  intact,  are  beautiful  in 
their  simplicity.  The  chapel  is  just  above  the  great  wine 
cellar,  massive  to-day  as  it  was  more  than  a  century 
ago.  Most  of  the  old  missions  have  been  restored,  and 
it  is  to  be  hoped  that  San  Fernando  will  be  cared  for 
before  it  is  too  late.  But  let  the  work  be  done  with 
sympathetic  insight  and  with  thoroughgoing  restraint. 

Between  San  Fernando  and  Pasadena  there  is  a  bit 
of  desert  land  where  the  cactus  thrives  and  where 
machine  owners  from  the  city  like  to  stop  and  hack 
down  gigantic  stalks  of  yucca,  returning  home  with  the 
upright  floral  banner  marking  the  car  a  square  away 
in  the  city  streets. 

Then  comes  Arroyo  Seco,  crossed,  at  Pasadena  the 
Marvelous,  by  the  graceful  double  concrete  viaduct; 
and,  ten  miles  back  in  the  San  Gabriel  Mountains,  bor 
dered  by  several  hundred  summer  home  sites  leased  by 
the  Government  for  fifteen  dollars  each  per  year,  as  well 
as  by  vacation  areas  and  playgrounds  set  apart  as  a  bit 
of  the  service  rendered  by  the  Angeles  Forest  to  the 
city  dwellers  who  turn  to  these  mountains  for  an  outing. 

And  what  chances  these  mountains  afford  for  recrea 
tion!  Eoads  and  trails,  camp  and  canyon,  peaks  and 
valleys,  are  on  all  sides ;  at  every  turn  there  are  alluring 
nooks  that  offer  help  to  men  and  women  to  put  in  a 
health-giving  vacation.  And  the  one  request  made  of 
those  who  seek  this  area  is  that  they  will  do  their  part 
to  prevent  the  fires  which  would  destroy  the  brush  that 
covers  the  mountainside  and  so  would  hinder  the  con- 

215 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

serration  of  water  for  the  fruits  and  grain  of  the  val 
leys.  Eesidents  of  the  valleys  are  so  eager  to  cooperate 
with  the  Forest  Service  that  counties,  towns,  and  even 
individuals,  volunteer  to  add  to  the  funds  available  for 
furnishing  fire  patrols  arid  fire  fighters. 

There  is  no  better  way  to  see  the  rich  country  tribu 
tary  to  Los  Angeles,  where  the  growers  cooperate  with 
workers  of  the  Angeles  Forest  and  of  the  Cleveland 
Forest,  than  to  go  by  stage  to  Santa  Ana,  along  avenues 
of  pepper  trees,  by  groves  of  oranges  and  lemons,  of 
olives  and  English  walnuts. 

The  Cleveland  Forest  lies  to  the  east  of  Santa  Ana, 
in  the  Santa  Ana  Mountains,  and  its  lower  edge  is 
pierced  by  the  Santiago  Canyon  road,  among  the  live 
oaks  and  sycamores.  These  trees  are  at  their  best  at 
the  Orange  County  Park  of  160  acres,  a  free  resort 
for  campers,  where  tourists  stop  in  numbers  when  on 
the  way  from  San  Diego  to  the  north. 

For  ten  miles  more  the  canyon  leads  on,  with  sur 
prise  at  every  turn.  Numerous  side  canyons  give  their 
invitation  to  explore  the  secret  places  found  by  cattle 
rustlers  of  the  early  days.  Up  one  of  these  side  canyons 
is  the  garden  and  the  redwood  Forest  of  Arden,  home 
of  Madame  Hodjeska,  where  she  lived  with  her  husband 
during  weeks  of  respite  from  the  clamors  of  the  crowd. 
The  house  is  now  a  popular  resort,  and  so  may  be  seen 
easily;  it  is  much  the  same  as  in  the  days  of  its  builder, 
even  to  the  red  window  in  the  Madame 's  bedroom, 
through  which — so  the  story  runs — the  great  trage 
dienne  delighted  to  rest  herself  by  looking  at  the  woods 
which  seemed  to  be  on  fire;  though  unfortunately  for 
tradition,  her  son  says  that  he  secured  that  window 
for  purposes  of  photography. 

216 


IN  AND  ABOUT   LOS   ANGELES 

A  few  miles  north  of  Santa  Ana,  near  Placentia,  is 
a  more  curious  combination  than  a  red  glass  window 
and  a  tragedienne — citrus  groves  and  flourishing  oil 
fields.  In  one  large  field  producing  wells  are  in  the 
midst  of  trees  that  bear  their  luscious  fruit. 

From  Placentia  the  way  is  easy  to  Corona  and  then, 
by  the  justly  famous  Magnolia  Drive,  to  Riverside, 
where  Mount  Eubidoux,  dedicated  to  Easter  morn 
ing  services,  divides  attention  with  the  groves  of  the 
navel  orange. 

Bedlands  and  San  Bernardino  are  close  to  Eiver- 
side,  and  just  beyond  San  Bernardino  are  the  desert 
lands.  But  to  the  west  is  the  Cucamonga  Valley,  whose 
proud  slope  to  the  San  Gabriels  adds  to  its  beauty. 
This  is  the  beginning  of  the  fifty-mile  backward  stretch 
toward  Los  Angeles  which  completes  the  circuit  of  the 
famous  fruit  belt  tributary  to  the  City  of  the  Angels. 


CHAPTER  XXHI 
IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

AY  a  velvet  carpet  across  the  Sierras !  The  Em 
peror  is  coming! " 

The  dismayed  mountain  guide  read  the  mes 
sage  from  a  friend  in  San  Francisco  who  would  warn 
him  what  to  expect  when  the  magnate  who  traveled  in 
his  private  car  reached  the  mountains.  And  he  sighed. 

' '  But  I  am  afraid  I  would  have  done  more  than  sigh 
if  I  had  been  able  to  forecast  the  three  tragic  weeks  that 
followed, ' '  he  said.  ' '  Think  of  a  man  who  declared  that 
he  would  not  stir  a  step  into  the  mountains  unless  his 
hair  mattress,  double  thickness,  was  carried  along!  I 
ought  to  have  put  my  foot  down  hard,  but  in  a  moment 
of  weakness  I  had  the  mattress  draped  over  a  burro's 
back.  Poor  beastie !  He  couldn't  even  flirt  his  tail;  he 
was  a  ludicrous  sight  as  he  passed  along  the  steep  trail, 
only  his  long  ears  showing  above  the  mattress. 

"And  the  wife!  She  wore  silk  stockings  and  high- 
heeled  shoes  when  she  mounted  her  horse  the  first  day 
of  the  trip.  And  she  said  to  one  of  the  guides,  'You 
stay  by  me,  my  man,  for  I  may  want  to  get  off  at  any 
moment/  And  he  replied,  with  a  firmness  I  envied  him, 
*Pm  going  to  Horse  Corral  Meadows,  ma'am,  and  if 
you  want  to  go,  too,  you  just  stick  on  that  horse.'  " 

Once  her  poor  guide,  unable  longer  to  stand  the 
strain,  sat  down  on  a  rock  and  wept.  "The  spectacle  of 
a  hard-boiled  egg  of  a  mountaineer  crying  like  a  baby 
was  too  much  for  the  rest  of  us,"  the  leader  of  the  party 
said.  "We  did  our  best  to  comfort  him,  and  in  a  little 
while  he  consented  to  make  another  attempt  to  conduct 

218 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

the  awful  vacation-seekers  over  the  torturing  trail." 

When  the  tale  of  the  three  tragic  weeks  was  con 
cluded,  the  guide  talked  of  men  who  had  entered  the 
Sierras  with  other  ideas  than  to  have  a  camping  trip 
de  luxe.  l  '  John  Muir  and  Joseph  Le  Conte — they  were 
real  men!"  he  declared.  "No  nonsense  about  them! 
How  Professor  Le  Conte  loved  the  Sierras !  And  how 
wonderfully  John  Muir  talked  of  the  meadows  and  the 
peaks,  the  canyons  and  the  waterfalls !  His  every  refer 
ence  to  the  trees  was  a  caress.  It  was  great  to  camp 
with  him!" 

That  guide  himself  must  have  caught  the  spirit  of 
these  men  of  the  Sierras,  to  judge  from  his  tale  of  a 
camping  trip  when  he  spent  weeks  alone. 

' '  Yet  I  was  not  alone, ' '  he  said.  ' '  I  had  some  good 
companions  on  that  trip.  The  most  remarkable  were 
six  Clark  crows  which  stayed  with  me  for  days.  I  was 
late  that  year ;  it  was  long  past  the  middle  of  November 
before  I  finally  heeded  the  signs  of  coming  winter. 
Those  six  crows  seemed  to  realize  that  I  was  going  soon ; 
they  looked  at  me  mournfully,  they  talked  to  me  per 
sistently,  they  robbed  me  unmercifully.  Always  they 
greeted  me  in  the  morning  from  a  dead  branch  near 
my  camp-fire,  and  in  the  evening  they  were  at  hand  with 
their  strident  welcome.  I'll  never  forget  the  day  I 
left  them.  When  I  broke  camp  they  remonstrated,  and 
when  I  started  with  my  pack  horse  down  the  trail  they 
followed  me  reproachfully.  The  last  thing  I  saw  as  I 
passed  around  a  rock  near  by  was  that  dead  branch 
with  the  six  Clark  crows,  perched  side  by  side,  looking 
after  me  so  seriously,  as  if  they  would  say, i  We  didn't 
think  you  would  leave  old  friends  like  this !'  " 

Fresno,  in  the  San  Joaquin  Valley,  is  the  favorite 

219 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

gateway  to  the  Sierras  for  this  guide,  though  Merced 
and  Visalia  likewise  are  portals  to  the  mountain  fast 
nesses.  But  Fresno  is  a  particularly  good  place  for  the 
start,  since  it  has  so  many  attractions  of  its  own.  Its 
raisin  vineyards  are  famous,  and  its  Kearney  Park, 
with  the  twelve-mile  approach,  bordered  by  palms  and 
pepper  trees  and  magnolias,  is  a  marvel.  The  park  is  the 
central  feature  of  the  great  Kearney  estate,  where  the 
bachelor  man  of  mystery  who  owned  it  had  a  house 
containing  many  guest  rooms,  though  he  never  enter 
tained  a  guest.  During  his  lifetime  he  did  not  show  a 
particle  of  interest  in  educational  institutions,  but  by 
his  will  the  four  thousand  acres  passed  to  the  University 
of  California  as  an  Experimental  Eeserve  Farm.  Every 
year  thousands  of  visitors  pass  through  the  gateway, 
their  approach  made  easy  not  merely  by  the  railroads, 
but  by  the  remarkable  State  Highway  from  San  Fran 
cisco  to  Los  Angeles. 

The  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the  roads  that 
radiate  from  Fresno  to  different  portions  of  the  Sierras 
will  be  almost  as  perfect  as  the  main  north  and  south 
highway.  In  the  meantime  they  are  far  better  than 
the  average,  and  the  trip,  whether  made  by  stage  or  by 
private  car,  is  remarkably  easy. 

Five  or  six  hours  away,  to  the  southeast,  is  Sequoia 
National  Park,  whose  two  hundred  and  fifty-two  square 
miles  contain  more  than  one  million  Sequoia  trees,  of 
which  more  than  twelve  thousand  exceed  ten  feet  in 
diameter.  The  monarch  of  all  is  the  General  Sherman 
Tree,  said  to  be  the  oldest  living  thing,  whose  diameter 
is  more  than  thirty-six  feet. 

From  Fresno  to  the  park  the  way  is  among  vine 
yards  and  orange  groves,  to  the  shadowing  foothills, 
220 


IN   THE   HEART   OF   THE  SIERRAS 

and  then  to  the  mountain  heights — for  the  Sequoia 
Gigantea  demands  an  altitude  of  from  five  to  six  thou 
sand  feet.  It  is  not  necessary  to  regret  that  these 
glorious  trees  cannot  he  climbed;  a  view  of  the  sur 
rounding  country  can  be  gained  from  Moro  Eock  and 
Sensation  Point.  From  Moro  Eock  can  be  seen  the 
structure  of  the  Sierras,  from  the  foothills  to  the  high 
est  summits.  The  United  States  Government  has  built 
a  stairway  to  the  top  of  this  observatory  of  the  moun 
tains.  From  the  bald  summit  of  the  glaciated  rock 
there  are  spread  out  the  Kaweahs,  most  spectacular  of 
the  Sierras.  Far  to  the  east  numerous  snowy  peaks 
lift  their  heads,  with  majestic  Mount  Whitney,  the  king 
of  them  all,  while  to  the  north  are  more  big  groves  of  big 
trees,  innumerable  canyons,  and  peaks  that  make  clar 
ion  call  to  those  regions  which  most  visitors  pass  by 
for  the  Yosemite,  still  farther  north,  though  these  are 
not  less  worthy  of  delighted  attention  than  the  world- 
renowned  wonders  of  the  upper  Merced. 

From  Fresno  once  more  is  the  chief  approach  to  the 
Big  Tree  Country  to  the  north  of  Sequoia  Park.  The 
road  climbs  rapidly  as  soon  as  the  San  Joaquin  Valley 
is  left  behind.  Fresno  is  only  about  one  hundred  feet 
above  the  sea,  but  General  Grant  Park,  seventy  miles 
distant,  is  about  sixty-seven  hundred  feet  high. 

The  passage  through  the  foothills  has  its  grim  re 
minders  of  the  days  when  Sontag  and  Evans,  the  mail 
robbers,  the  terror  of  Southern  Pacific  officials,  eluded 
sheriff's  posses  innumerable.  More  picturesque  are  the 
tales  of  the  Basque  shepherds  whose  great  flocks  feed 
in  the  forests  and  along  the  canyons. 

The  final  ascent  to  General  Grant  Park  is  by  a  pre 
carious  road  along  the  edge  of  a  deep  canyon  where  pine 

221 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

trees  line  the  walls  and  brilliant  flowers  contest  with  the 
trees  the  claim  to  the  attention  of  the  passer-by. 

In  the  park  itself  there  are  not  so  many  specimens 
of  the  Sequoia  Gigantea  as  in  Sequoia  Park,  but  the 
pleasing  grouping  of  the  great  trees,  and  the  presence 
here  of  the  General  Grant  tree — which  is  practically 
as  large  as  the  General  Sherman  tree  in  Sequoia 
Park — make  it  a  resort  whose  popularity  is  increasing 
each  year. 

The  General  Grant  Park  is  a  good  starting  point  for 
the  trip  by  pack  horse  to  the  great  King's  Eiver  Can 
yon,  the  first  of  the  four  great  canyons  of  the  mid- 
Sierras  that  present  so  many  striking  similarities.  The 
canyons  farther  north  are  the  San  Joaquin,  the  Merced 
and  the  Tuolumne.  To  the  two  last  named  more  atten 
tion  has  been  paid  than  to  the  others,  but  King 's  Can 
yon  and  San  Joaquin  Canyon  are  in  many  respects  as 
striking  as  the  more  northerly  neighbors.  The  forma 
tions  of  King's  Eiver  Canyon  are  remarkably  like  those 
of  Yosemite,  the  canyon  of  the  Merced,  showing  that 
the  ways  of  erosion,  glacial  action  and  disintegration 
are  similar  along  all  the  great  water  courses  of  these 
High  Sierras.  Those  who  persevere  along  King's  Eiver 
Canyon  will  come  to  the  Kern  Eiver  Canyon,  the  only 
one  of  the  great  gorges  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  Moun 
tains  that  stretches  from  north  to  south. 

Fresno  is  the  starting  point  for  another  of  these 
canyons,  that  of  the  San  Joaquin,  and  Huntington  Lake, 
seventy  miles  away— the  artificial  lake  seven  thousand 
feet  high  which  supplies  Los  Angeles  with  electric 
power — is  the  terminus  of  the  road  that  leads  almost 
due  east.  All  but  four  miles  of  the  distance  may  be 
made  by  the  picturesquely  crooked  San  Joaquin  and 
Eastern  Eailroad,  in  whose  first  twenty-five  miles  from 
222 


KEARNEY    AVENUE,    FRESNO,    CALIFORNIA 


MORO    ROCK,    SEQUOIA    NATIONAL    PARK,    CALIFORNIA 


IN  THE   HEART  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

Auberry  there  seems  to  be  no  stretch  longer  than  three 
hundred  yards  without  a  curve.  And  such  curves !  To 
follow  them  in  a  comfortable  railroad  coach  is  an  ex 
perience  to  be  remembered,  but  far  better  is  it  to  ride  up 
the  mountain  stretch  on  a  gasoline-driven  speeder.  The 
churning  blue  waters  of  the  San  Joaquin  are  from  one 
thousand  to  fifteen  hundred  feet  below,  now  lost  in  the 
pine  trees,  again  coming  into  enticing  view.  At  length 
the  stream  disappears  in  a  box  canyon,  impassable  for 
twenty  miles.  Far  beyond  the  canyon  shows  Balloon 
Dome  Summit,  the  snow-clad  Minarets,  thirteen  thou 
sand  feet  high,  and  Mount  Lyell — peaks  that  mark 
the  divide  between  the  basin  of  the  San  Joaquin  and 
that  of  the  Merced. 

The  great  power-station,  from  which  wires  lead  to 
Los  Angeles,  is  at  the  head  of  Big  Creek  Canyon,  where 
Pitman  Falls  tumbles  from  shelf  to  shelf  a  thousand 
feet  down  the  mountain.  Four  miles  farther  up — and 
two  thousand  feet  higher — comfortable  Huntington 
Lakes  Lodge  invites  the  fisherman,  the  boatman  and 
the  lover  of  the  trail. 

From  the  canyon  where  engineers  have  created  the 
reservoir  that  looks  like  a  natural  mountain  lake,  the 
Indians  used  to  make  their  way  every  year  to  Mono 
Pass,  in  quest  of  pine  nuts.  Still  some  of  them  go 
that  way,  though  most  of  those  who  drive  their  pack 
horses  over  the  Mono  Trail  are  mountaineers  by  pro 
fession  or  are  responding  to  the  lure  of  the  High 
Sierras.  The  trail  has  long  been  a  standard  means  of  ac 
cess  to  the  John  Muir  Trail,  whose'builders  are  making 
rapid  progress — considering  the  shortness  of  the  sum 
mer  season — toward  the  completion  of  this  tribute  to 
the  great  mountain  lover  whose  name  it  bears.  "When 
the  final  work  is  done,  perhaps  six  or  seven  years  from 

223 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

now,  it  will  be  possible  for  a  man  to  pack  his  way 
from  end  to  end  and  in  twenty-eight  days,"  said  a 
guide  familiar  with  the  mountains.  Then  he  said  that 
the  fjrst  time  he  took  that  trail  he  was  on  the  way  five 
months  and  a  half ! 

It  is  not  necessary  to  return  to  the  valley  before 
passing  from  the  Huntington  Lake  region  to  the  two 
remaining  canyons  of  John  Muir's  favorite  stamping- 
ground — Yosemite  and  the  Hetch  Hetchy.  Not  many 
miles  below  the  exit  of  the  San  Joaquin  from  its  inacces 
sible  box  canyon,  there  is  a  road  that  crosses  the  river 
on  its  way  to  North  Fork,  the  headquarters  of  the 
Sierra  National  Forest,  which  includes  most  of  the  coun 
try  to  the  crest  of  the  Sierras.  Above  North  Fork,  and 
beyond  the  hill  country  where  bandits  many  times  held 
up  the  stage  that,  in  more  primitive  days,  carried  pil 
grims  bound  for  the  Yosemite,  lies  the  Mariposa  Grove 
of  Big  Trees,  perhaps  the  best  known  of  all  the  Sequoia 
groves,  by  reason  of  its  nearness  to  the  Yosemite  val 
ley.  There  are  many  who  declare  that  these  are  the 
finest  as  well  as  the  best  known  of  the  trees,  though 
there  is  difference  of  opinion  on  this  point  among  those 
who  know  and  love  the  Sierras.  Yet  there  can  be  no 
difference  of  opinion  as  to  the  overwhelming  charm  of 
the  prospect  from  Wawona  Point,  the  height  above  the 
grove.  On  one  side,  across  the  valley,  are  the  lower 
slopes  of  the  mountains.  To  the  right  rises  the  tree- 
clad  ridge  of  granite  beyond  which  is  the  Yosemite. 
And  in  the  rear  the  eyes  are  gladdened  by  the  sight 
of  the  upper  side  of  the  great  mountains  seen  from  the 
railroad  below  Cascada,  above  the  box  canyon  of  the 
San  Joaquin. 

Down  from  Wawona  Point  into  the  valley  leads  the 
road  to  Yosemite.  Then  up  again  from  the  valley  to  a 

224 


ON   THE   WAY    TO   HUNTINGDON   LAKE 


FOREST    FIRE    OF    1918    FROM    WAWONA    POINT 


BRIDAL  VEIL  MEADOW,  YOSEMITE  NATIONAL  PARK 


MIRROR  LAKE,  YOSEMITE  NATIONAL  PARK,  IN  TENAYA  CANYON 


IN  THE  HEART  OF  THE  SIERRAS 

height  of  more  than  five  thousand  feet.  Suddenly  there 
bursts  on  the  eyes  a  vision  which  cannot  be  described 
with  any  hope  of  telling  its  glory — the  vision  from 
Inspiration  Point,  where  the  Indians,  who  long  reveled 
in  the  delights  of  the  Yosemite,  stood  and  worshiped; 
where  the  settlers  from  the  San  Joaquin  valley,  in  pur 
suit  of  Indian  raiders,  paused  in  silent  wonder.  And 
those  who  follow  in  the  steps  of  those  first  white  visi 
tors  to  the  valley  must  imitate  their  silence  as  they 
pause  at  the  gateway  of  what  Emerson  called  "the 
only  spot  that  I  have  ever  found  that  came  up  to  the 
brag."  Involuntarily  voices  are  hushed,  and  the  best 
in  the  beholder  comes  close  to  the  surface.  "You  sim 
ply  can 't  lie  or  say  things  in  a  place  like  that, ' '  was  a 
mountaineer's  way  of  expressing  his  feelings. 

At  first  the  eye  refuses  to  distinguish  the  features 
of  the  valley  spread  out  like  dreamland  far  beneath 
him.  But  as  the  moments  pass  he  recognizes  El  Capi- 
tan,  the  gigantic  wall  of  granite  of  which  the  Indians 
told  one  of  their  marvel  tales — the  sudden  rising  of  the 
cliff  from  the  side  of  the  Merced,  bearing  aloft  two 
sleeping  Indian  boys  who,  when  men  and  animals  alike 
failed  in  attempts  at  rescue,  were  finally  brought  to 
earth  by  the  insignificant  measuring  worm,  humping 
himself  up  the  precipice  to  the  accompaniment  of  jeers 
and  jibes,  and  bumping  himself  down  once  more,  amid 
the  tumultuous  acclaim  of  all. 

On  the  right,  across  the  valley,  the  waters  of  Bridal 
Veil  Falls  slip  down  by  the  side  of  Cathedral  Eocks. 
Beneath  are  the  pines  and  the  meadows.  Beyond  the 
valley's  recesses  urge  speedy  descent  from  the  heights, 
along  by  the  meadows  in  the  great  amphitheatre  where 
Yosemite  Village  sits,  with  leaping,  laughing,  wind- 
driven  Yosemite  Falls  on  one  side  and  the  cliffs  thai 

15  225 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

lead  to  Glacier  Point  on  the  other.  All  along  the  way 
the  waters  of  the  Merced  plunge  along  their  narrow 
bed,  fed  by  the  streams  from  the  heights  that  come  down 
in  Vernal  Falls  and  Nevada  Falls  and  the  other  cascades 
to  which,  fortunately,  it  is  possible  to  approach  until  the 
spray  becomes  like  a  welcome  shower-bath. 

Then  comes  the  division  in  the  canyon.  From  the 
right,  the  river  descends  rapidly  along  the  Little 
Yosemite  Canyon;  to  the  left  is  the  Tenaya  Canyon, 
in  its  bosom  Mirror  Lake,  whose  waters  are  a  poem  in 
reflection.  On  three  sides  are  the  towering  precipices. 
When  the  rising  sun  has  not  yet  shown  itself  above  the 
cliffs  on  the  east,  every  detail  of  rock  and  tree  and 
shrub  is  shown  clearly  in  the  depths  of  the  lake,  until 
it  is  difficult  to  tell  which  is  the  more  glorious,  the  view 
above,  or  the  view  beneath.  The  details  are  sharp,  dis 
tinct.  The  rocky  islands  with  their  growth  of  green, 
and  the  tree-lined  shores  cast  shadows  of  lighter  green 
that  contrast  delightfully  with  the  darker  green  of 
the  shadows  of  the  pines.  To  the  left  Mt.  Watkins' 
sloping  sides  are  cut  into  the  water  like  a  cameo,  while 
on  the  right  another  precipice  gives  a  complementary 
reflection.  And  in  the  gap  between  a  single  great  pine 
tree  stands  like  a  sentinel.  Mirror  Lake  is  a  fit  guardian 
of  this  side  canyon  that  leads  from  the  glacier-formed 
valley  of  the  Yosemite. 

It  is  good  to  be  in  these  sun-kissed  canyons  for  a 
few  days,  but  how  much  better  it  is  to  be  there  for  a 
week,  a  month,  a  season!  In  1871  John  Muir  wrote: 
"I  did  not  go  for  a  Saturday  or  a  Sunday,  or  a  stingy 
week,  but  with  unmeasured  time,  and  independent  of 
companion  or  scientific  association. "  And  that  is  the 
way  to  see  Yosemite,  or  Hetch  Hetchy,  its  wild  and 
comparatively  unknown  counterpart  in  the  north. 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

lead  to  Glacier  Point  on  the  other.  All  along  the  way 
the  waters  of  the  Merced  plunge  along  their  narrow 
bed,  fed  by  the  streams  from  the  heights  that  come  down 
in  Vernal  Falls  and  Nevada  Falls  and  the  other  cascades 
to  which,  fortunately,  it  is  possible  to  approach  until  the 
spray  becomes  like  a  welcome  shower-bath. 

Then  comes  the  division  in  the  canyon.  From  the 
right,  the  river  descends  rapidly  along  the  Little 
Yosemite  Canyon;  to  the  left  is  the  Tenaya  Canyon, 
in  its  bosom  Mirror  Lake,  whose  waters  are  a  poem  in 
reflection.  On  three  sides  are  the  towering  precipices. 
When  the  rising  sun  has  not  yet  shown  itself  above  the 
cliffs  on  the  east,  every  detail  of  rock  and  tree  and 
shrub  is  shown  clearly  in  the  depths  of  the  lake,  until 
it  is  difficult  to  tell  which  is  the  more  glorious,  the  view 
above,  or  the  view  beneath.  The  details  are  sharp,  dis 
tinct.  The  rocky  islands  with  their  growth  of  green, 
and  the  tree-lined  shores  cast  shadows  of  lighter  green 
that  contrast  delightfully  with  the  darker  green  of 
the  shadows  of  the  pines.  To  the  left  Mt.  Watkins' 
sloping  sides  are  cut  into  the  water  like  a  cameo,  while 
on  the  right  another  precipice  gives  a  complementary 
reflection.  And  in  the  gap  between  a  single  great  pine 
tree  stands  like  a  sentinel.  Mirror  Lake  is  a  fit  guardian 
of  this  side  canyon  that  leads  from  the  glacier-formed 
valley  of  the  Yosemite. 

It  is  good  to  be  in  these  sun-kissed  canyons  for  a 
few  days,  but  how  much  better  it  is  to  be  there  for  a 
week,  a  month,  a  season!  In  1871  John  Muir  wrote: 
"I  did  not  go  for  a  Saturday  or  a  Sunday,  or  a  stingy 
week,  but  with  unmeasured  time,  and  independent  of 
companion  or  scientific  association/'  And  that  is  the 
way  to  see  Yosemite,  or  Hetch  Hetchy,  its  wild  and 
comparatively  unknown  counterpart  in  the  north. 


. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

FROM  LOS  ANGELES  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO 

IT  is  possible  to  go  from  Los  Angeles  to  San  Fran 
cisco  by  two  routes,  whether  the  traveler  uses  the 
railroad  or  the  automobile.  The  San  Joaquin  Val 
ley  route  is  fine,  but  the  route  along  and  near  the  Pacific 
Ocean  is  finer  still. 

As  far  as  Santa  Barbara  the  highway  follows  the 
route  of  the  romantic  old  El  Camino  Eeal,  the  King's 
Highway  or  the  Eoyal  Eoad,  first  built  as  a  means  of 
communication  between  the  Spanish  missions  founded 
by  Junipero  Serra,  which  were  placed  about  twenty-five 
miles,  or  a  da/'s  journey,  apart. 

The  road  first  reaches  the  coast  at  Ventura,  the  site 
of  the  San  Buenaventura  Mission,  remarkable  for  its 
Moorish  tower,  its  adobe  walls  six  feet  thick,  and  its 
great  roof  timbers  that  were  brought  from  the  moun 
tains  fifty  miles  away. 

Directly  south  of  Ventura  the  eye  looks  off  to  the 
Channel  Islands,  where  Cabrillo,  California's  first  visi 
tor  from  Europe,  landed  in  1542.  Before  his  death  on 
San  Miguel  Island  he  anchored  in  the  beautiful  half- 
moon  harbor  of  Avalon,  Catalina  Island,  famous  to-day 
for  its  sea-gardens  and  its  glass-bottomed  boats,  as  well 
as  because  it  is  the  approach  to  California's  isle  of 
perpetual  summer,  where  the  climate  is  nearly  perfect. 
Once  gold-seekers  sought  to  overrun  the  55,000  acres 
of  the  island.  Later  United  States  troops  occupied  it, 
but  now  it  is  valuable  only  as  a  resort  for  the  fisherman, 
the  hunter  and  the  pleasure-seeker. 

227 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

It  is  impossible  to  forget  the  ride  along  Santa  Bar 
bara  Channel,  looking  out  toward  the  islands.  On  one 
side  are  the  mountains;  on  the  other  are  the  rugged 
cliffs,  which  stop  the  impetuous  rush  of  the  Pacific 
waves,  and  make  landing  difficult. 

If  Santa  Barbara  is  approached  from  the  mountains 
the  scene  is  equally  impressive.  The  road  across  the 
Santa  Inez  Mountains  is  difficult,  but  difficulty  is  lost 
sight  of  when  from  the  summit  the  foothills  with  the 
Mission  two  miles  from  the  ocean,  and  the  valley  in 
which  the  city  is  built,  compel  the  admiration  of  the 
beholder.  The  broad  streets,  the  luxuriant  trees,  the 
welcoming  parks  and  the  beautiful  homes  of  Santa  Bar 
bara  plead  with  him  to  come  down  and  abide  there. 

And  the  people  of  Santa  Barbara  know  how  to  wel 
come  the  visitor.  The  romantic  days  of  the  Spaniards 
are  not  yet  so  far  away  that  the  traditions  of  easy 
going  hospitality  have  been  forgotten.  Charles  Howard 
Shinn  tells  delightfully  of  the  days  when  there  was  not 
a  hotel  in  California,  when  it  was  considered  a  grievous 
offence  even  for  a  stranger,  much  more  for  a  friend, 
to  pass  by  a  ranch  without  stopping.  Fresh  horses 
were  always  furnished,  and  in  many  cases  on  record 
when  strangers  appeared  to  need  financial  help  a  pile 
of  uncounted  silver  was  left  in  the  sleeping  apartment, 
and  guests  were  given  to  understand  that  they  were 
to  take  all  they  needed. 

A  forest  lover,  on  tour  with  his  family,  found  a  sur 
vival  of  this  pleasing  hospitality  when  he  attempted  to 
camp  on  vacant  ground  not  far  from  a  ranch  home. 
" Father  wants  to  see  you,"  a  young  man  said  to  the 
campers  while  they  were  pitching  their  tent.  Sur 
prised,  they  sought  the  father,  who  greeted  them  with 

228 


ON   THE    RUGGED    PACIFIC    SHORE,    NEAR    SANTA    BARBARA,    CALIFORNIA 


THE   PINNACLES,    SANTA   CLARA    COUNTY,    CALIFORNIA 


FROM  LOS  ANGELES  TO  SAN  FRANCISCO 

shaking  head  and  welcoming  hand.  "Why  did  you 
go  past  the  ranch ! ' '  he  asked.  * l  We  have  beds,  we  have 
food,  we  have  a  place  for  your  beasts.  Come  down  to 
the  house  at  once.  We  want  you. ' ' 

In  1829  a  young  American,  traveling  in  company 
with  Spaniards  from  Los  Angeles,  was  given  some  fruit 
by  the  way.  He  offered  two  reals  to  the  woman  who 
gave  it.  In  surprise  she  let  the  silver  drop  to  the  floor. 
Her  husband  fell  on  his  knees  and  pleaded,  "Give  us 
no  money,  no  money  at  all;  everything  is  free  in  a 
gentleman's  house. " 

Further  reminder  of  this  cordial  spirit  was  given 
by  the  Supervisor  of  the  Monterey  National  Forest 
when  he  sent  out  his  annual  official  invitation  to  the 
vacation-seeker : 

You  have  no  doubt  begun  to  make  plans  for  your 
summer  vacation.  Have  you  ever  considered  the  Mon 
terey  National  Forest  as  the  place  for  it? 

This  Forest,  situated  in  the  rugged  part  of  the  Coast 
Eange,  between  Monterey  and  San  Luis  Obispo,  offers 
attractions  of  both  ocean  and  mountain. 

There  are  three  summer  resorts  within  or  near  the 
Forest:  Pfeiffer's  ranch  resort  on  the  Coast  Eoad  near 
the  mouth  of  Big  Sur  Eiver,  35  miles  south  of  Monterey 
by  stage,  Tassajara  Hot  Springs,  the  waters  of  which 
are  famous  for  medicinal  qualities,  50  miles  by  auto 
stage  from  Salinas,  and  the  Arroyo  Seco  resort,  15 
miles  by  road  from  Soledad.  All  of  these  places  are 
in  the  midst  of  a  country  abounding  in  game  and  in 
trout  streams,  stocked  by  the  Monterey  County  Super 
visors  and  the  Forest  Service. 

If,  instead  of  automobiling,  you  prefer  to  leave  the 
roads  and  travel  through  country  accessible  only  by 
trail,  you  may  find  trails  that  have  just  been  completed, 
opening  up  new  areas  for  exploration.  You  can  reach 

229 


SEEING  THE  PAR  WEST 

camping  places  in  the  upper  San  Antonio  and  Naci- 
miento  Creeks  and  the  upper  Arroyo  Seco  by  way  of 
King  City  if  you  come  from  the  north,  or  by  way  of 
Bradley  and  Jolon  if  you  come  from  the  south. 

You  can  reach  the  lower  Arroyo  Seco  from  Soledad 
or  King  City,  and  the  upper  Carmel  Eiver,  the  Big  Sur 
Eiver,  and  the  other  streams  of  the  Monterey  Coast 
from  Salinas  or  Monterey.  This  country  is  famous 
for  its  hunting  and  fishing,  its  rugged  scenery  and  its 
marine  landscapes. 

To  reach  these  places  you  can  start  either  with  horse 
and  pack  or  on  foot,  or  travel  by  auto  to  the  end  of  the 
road  and  there  make  arrangement  to  have  some  one  pack 
for  you.  Several  ranchers  will  do  packing  for  campers. 

Detailed  information  will  be  gladly  furnished  upon 
request. 

Monterey  likewise  speaks  restfully  of  the  old  Span 
ish  life.  There  is  Mission  San  Carlos,  where,  according 
to  legend,  Junipero  Serra  was  buried  behind  the  altar 
rail.  Eelatives  from  Spain  by  bribery  managed  to 
secure  the  body  and  to  carry  it  home  with  them,  leaving 
behind  the  body  of  a  criminal,  wrapped  in  the  vest 
ments  of  the  great  Fathers  of  the  Missions.  There  are 
the  languorous  streets  of  the  old  town  and  slumber- 
inviting  houses  by  the  way.  And  there  is  the  famous 
Seventeen-mile  drive  to  Cypress  Point,  among  the  sand 
dunes,  along  the  rocky  shores  above  the  breaking  waves, 
past  the  famous  cypresses,  in  exposed  places  tortured  by 
the  wind  into  all  sorts  of  fantastic  shapes,  and  in  more 
sheltered  spots  standing  erect  and  normal. 

As  startling  in  their  way  as  the  twisted  cypresses 
of  Monterey  are  the  Pinnacles  of  the  San  Benito  Eiver 
Valley,  twelve  miles  from  the  highway  at  Soledad. 
Here  six  square  miles  have  been  set  apart  as  a  National 
Monument.  Some  of  the  rocks  are  comparatively  small, 

230 


CORMORANT  ROCKS  NEAR  MONTEREY,  CALIFORNIA 


NATURAL  BRIDGE  ON  THE  COAST  AT  SANTA  CRUZ,  CALIFORNIA 


FROM   LOS   ANGELES   TO  SAN   FRANCISCO 

while  others  are  from  six  hundred  to  one  thousand  feet 
high.  No  one  may  climb  them,  but  all  may  stand  below 
among  the  great  boulders  and  marvel  at  the  record 
of  the  day  ages  ago  when  a  new  course  was  made  for  the 
San  Benito  Eiver  towards  Monterey  Bay. 

Santa  Cruz  contests  with  Monterey  and  Soledad  the 
claim  to  the  possession  of  the  most  remarkable  natural 
features  in  the  country  on  and  near  the  coast.  Santa 
Cruz  has  rugged  cliffs  on  the  ocean  shores  and  natural 
caves  where  the  waters  boil  and  foam  in  contests  re 
newed  twice  daily,  while  near  at  hand  is  the  grove  of 
Sequoia  Sempervirens,  where  great  trees,  the  largest  of 
these  fifty  feet  in  circumference,  rise  in  majesty  on  a 
slope  that  reaches  down  to  the  bank  of  a  stream  that 
seems  lost  amid  such  grandeur.  And  to  the  northeast 
there  is  the  great  cleft  in  the  mountains  cut  by  the  Los 
Gatos  Eiver,  where  the  branch  road  twists  and  turns 
along  the  precipice  in  its  descent  toward  the  city. 

Along  the  road  from  Monterey  to  San  Francisco 
still  other  marvels  arrest  the  eye,  in  the  fertile  Pajaro 
Valley,  where  immigrants  from  Dalmatia  succeed  in 
growing  some  of  America's  finest  apples,  and  in  the 
Santa  Clara  Valley,  farther  north,  the  home  of  the 
vineyard,  the  apricot  and  the  prune.  The  latter  valley 
is  dominated  by  Santa  Clara  and  San  Jose,  cities  con 
nected  by  the  Alameda  drive,  shaded  by  trees  planted  by 
the  Mission  Fathers  when  Spanish  rule  was  in  its  glory. 
Access  to  Mount  Hamilton,  with  its  great  Lick  Observa 
tory,  is  gained  by  way  of  the  Alum  Eock  drive  and  the 
connecting  road,  twenty-five  miles  to  the  summit.  Le- 
land  Stanford  University,  with  its  quaint  quadrangle  of 
mission  architecture,  is  within  easy  reach  to  the  north  of 
San  Jose.  Its  generous  campus  joins  eight  thousand 

231 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

acres  of  valley  and  hill,  once  the  Stanford  home  vine 
yards  but  now  a  part  of  the  school's  endowment. 

Stanford  University  is  near  the  southern  extremity 
of  San  Francisco  Bay,  called  on  a  map  of  1835  the  Bay 
of  Sir  Francis  Drake.  A  few  miles  northeast,  at  Berk 
eley,  is  the  older  University  of  California,  which,  unlike 
Stanford,  had  a  long  period  of  struggle  before  it 
reached  its  present  proud  position.  In  1853,  as  the 
College  of  California,  it  began  in  Oakland  with  an 
attendance  of  three.  Twenty  years  later,  it  was  re 
moved  to  the  beautiful  site  at  Berkeley,  which  Joseph 
Le  Conte  said  was  one  of  the  most  beautiful  sites  in 
the  world.  "Behind  it  the  Berkeley  hills,  with  their 
softly  rounded  forms,  mantled  with  green,  rise  to  a 
height  of  over  two  thousand  feet  within  the  distance  of  a 
mile, ' '  he  wrote,  in  his  pride  of  the  institution  to  which 
he  gave  his  best  years;  "in  front  the  ground  slopes 
gently  to  the  noble  San  Francisco  Bay,  with  its  bold 
islands ;  and  beyond  the  bay  are  the  picturesque  Santa 
Cruz  and  Tamalpais  ranges,  3000  feet  high,  broken  by 
the  narrow  strait  called  Golden  Gate,  through  wrhich, 
from  the  University,  one  can  look  out  on  the  limit 
less  Pacific." 

What  a  time  the  prophets  of  those  early  days  would 
have  if  they  could  look  on  the  cities  seated  on  San 
Francisco  Bay!  There  were  those  who  said  that  the 
removal  to  Berkeley  would  be  fatal  to  the  University. 
Others  declared  that  Oakland  would  never  be  more  than 
"the  rural  suburb  and  school-house  of  San  Francisco," 
while  they  were  ready  to  concede  that  San  Francisco 
would  be  the  great  city  it  has  become.  One  man  de 
clared  in  1868  that  the  city  by  the  Golden  Gate  would 
be  not  merely  the  metropolis  of  the  western  part  of  the 

232 


FROM  LOS  ANGELES  TO  SAN   FRANCISCO 

United  States,  as  New  York  is  the  metropolis  of  the 
eastern  part,  but  the  city,  the  sole  great  city.  As  if  this 
were  not  enough,  the  prophet  concluded  by  a  question : 
"Is  it  too  much  to  say  that  this  city  must  become  the 
first  city  of  the  continent ;  and  is  it  too  much  to  say  that 
the  first  city  of  the  continent  must  ultimately  be  the 
first  city  of  the  world  V9 

The  residents  were  surely  right  in  speaking  of  San 
Francisco's  matchless  location  as  a  great  asset.  But 
it  required  a  man  from  the  East — Samuel  Bowles  of  the 
Springfield  Republican — to  give  what  is  perhaps  the 
best  short  description  of  the  city  ever  written : 

San  Francisco  hangs  over  the  edge  of  its  (Califor 
nia's)  chief est  bay,  like  the  oriole  balancing  on  the  crest 
of  its  long  pocket  nest,  peeping  around  the  corner  to 
the  Pacific,  but  opening  wide  eyes  north  and  south  and 
east  to  the  interior. 

San  Francisco  commanded  admiration  in  the  days 
of  gold,  but  how  much  greater  must  that  admiration 
be  to-day  when  the  chapter  of  her  triumphs  is  recorded 
— the  conquest  of  hills  that  are  almost  precipices  by  a 
means  of  transit  invented  for  the  purpose ;  the  turning 
of  shifting  sand  dunes  into  sites  for  homes  and  beautiful 
Golden  Gate  Park;  the  tunneling  of  Lone  Mountain, 
long  thought  to  be  an  impassable  barrier  to  broad 
Market  Street ;  the  reconstruction  of  the  city  after  the 
cataclysm  of  1906,  the  most  notable  example  in  history 
of  a  city  rising  from  its  ashes. 

The  city  by  the  Golden  Gate  is  rich  in  recreation 
spots.  The  ocean  calls,  and  the  voice  of  the  mountains 
is  heard.  But  perhaps  the  most  appealing  of  the  resorts 
is  Muir  Woods  National  Monument,  near  the  base  of 

233 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

Mt.  Tamalpais,  the  only  grove  of  redwoods  within  easy 
reach  of  the  city.  Visitors  to  this  wilderness  of  huge 
trees,  of  fern  and  flower  and  shrub,  will  have  pleasure 
increased  if  they  keep  in  mind  the  reply  made  by 
the  donor,  William  Kent,  of  Chicago,  to  the  pro 
posal  of  Theodore  Eoosevelt  that  the  gift  be  called 
Kent  Monument : 

Your  kind  suggestion  of  a  change  of  name  is  not 
one  that  I  can  accept.  So  many  millions  of  better 
people  have  died  forgotten  that  to  stencil  one's  own 
name  on  a  benefaction  seems  to  carry  with  it  an  im 
plication  of  mundane  immortality,  as  being  some 
thing  purchasable. 

I  have  five  good,  husky  boys  that  I  am  trying  to 
bring  up  to  a  knowledge  of  democracy  and  to  a  realiz 
ing  sense  of  the  rights  of  the  "other  fellow,"  doctrines 
which  you,  sir,  have  taught  with  more  vigor  and  effect 
than  any  man  in  my  time.  If  these  boys  cannot 
keep  the  name  of  Kent  alive,  I  am  willing  it  should 
be  forgotten. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  THE  MOUNT  SHASTA  COUNTRY 

ON  February  14, 1827,  Peter  Skene  Ogden,  Hud 
son  Bay  fur  trader,  found  himself  in  the  Shasta 
country.  That  evening  he  penned  a  delightfully 
discursive  entry  in  his  diary : 

Wind  blew  a  gale.  If  the  ship  destined  for  the 
Columbia  be  on  the  coast  this  stormy  weather  I  should 
feel  anxious  for  her.  Having  40  beaver  to  skin  and 
dress,  I  did  not  raise  camp.  ...  I  have  named  this 
river  Sastise  Eiver.  There  is  a  mountain  equal  in 
height  to  Mt.  Hood  or  Vancouver.  I  have  named  it 
Mt.  Sastise.  I  have  given  these  names  for  the  tribe 
of  Indians. 

Sastise  has  become  Shasta,  but  there  has  been  no 
change  in  the  admiration  inspired  by  the  mountain. 
Eising  abruptly  and  alone,  to  a  height  of  more  than 
fourteen  thousand  feet,  from  a  plain  little  more  than 
three  thousand  feet  above  the  sea,  it  impresses  itself  on 
the  beholder  as  do  few  American  peaks.  And  it  is 
so  close  to  the  railroad  that  tens  of  thousands  become 
acquainted  with  the  startling  sweep  of  its  sides,  the 
sharp  line  between  the  trees  and  the  snow,  and  the  bald 
summit,  so  often  lost  in  the  clouds  that  crown  its  head. 
Lassen  Peak,  seventy-five  miles  to  the  southeast,  has 
won  fame  because  it  has  had  the  temerity  to  become 
an  active  volcano.  But  Shasta,  always  the  same, 
proudly  asserts  its  lordship  over  plains  and  mountains 
in  Northern  California. 

235 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

The  best  way  to  know  Shasta  is  to  climb  to  its  sum 
mit,  as  many  do  each  year.  However,  no  one  needs 
to  be  discouraged  if  strength  or  time  for  the  climb  are 
lacking.  For  the  country  about  the  mountains  is  acces 
sible  both  by  country  roads  and  by  the  roads  and  trails 
of  the  Shasta  Forest  which  wend  their  way  amid  grazing 
stock  and  browsing  deer,  through  pineland  and  meadow 
and — alas ! — through  areas  blackened  by  forest  fires. 

For  the  visitor  who  is  ready  to  guard  against  fire, 
there  is  a  pleasing  entrance  to  the  forest  area  not  far 
from  the  Castle  Crags,  near  the  Southern  Pacific  Bail- 
way  station  of  that  name,  by  way  of  the  Castle  Crags 
and  McCloud  Eiver  toll-road.  This  road  leads  up  Soda 
Creek  Canyon,  amid  the  swaying  trunks  of  red  firs, 
which  somehow  seem  a  bit  more  companionable  than  the 
great  Sequoias.  Perhaps  a  deer  will  leap  from  the 
roadside  ahead,  as  on  the  day  the  author  made  the  trip. 
A  doe  with  her  two  spotted  fawns  turned  startled  eyes 
on  thei  machine  and  its  occupants.  The  doe  and  one 
fawn  succeeded  in  escaping,  but  the  other  fawn  lay 
down  in  the  road  directly  before  the  wheels.  The  skill 
ful  driver  avoided  her  and  the  animal  was  gently  lifted 
into  the  underbrush  and  there  left  to  be  discovered  by 
the  anxious  doe,  which  would  probably  lose  no  time  in 
removing  the  hated  man  smell  from  her  little  one. 

Not  all  animals  in  the  Shasta  area  are  as  appealing 
and  as  harmless  as  the  deer.  Every  year  official  hunters 
seek  the  mountain  lions,  which  prey  on  the  sheep  and 
cattle  that  find  pasture  in  the  forests.  One  of  these 
men,  a  year  or  two  ago,  succeeded  in  killing  five  lions 
in  a  single  day.  A  curious  Banger  who  asked  him  to 
tell  of  his  narrowest  escape  heard  from  him  a  start 
ling  story: 

236 


IN  THE   MOUNT  SHASTA   COUNTRY 

One  winter  morning  when  my  wife  had  gone  from 
home,  taking  the  dog  with  her,  I  found  the  trail  of 
two  mountain  lions.  After  pinning  to  the  door  a 
note  asking  her  to  send  the  dog  after  me  as  soon  as 
she  returned,  I  took  my  gun  and  started  on  the  traiL 
There  was  no  sign  of  the  beasts  until  I  slipped  on  the 
edge  of  a  sloping  ledge  of  rock.  I  arrived  at  the  bottom 
safely,  but  found  myself  within  a  few  rods  of  both  lions. 
The  trigger  was  pulled.  There  was  no  response.  Again 
I  tried  to  fire,  but  once  more  without  result.  The  gun 
was  empty!  And  I  had  no  shells  with  me.  At  this 
ticklish  moment,  when  one  lion  was  about  to  spring, 
there  was  a  rustle  in  the  bushes  that  attracted  the  atten 
tion  of  the  crouching  beast.  It  was  my  dog,  and  about 
his  neck  was  tied  a  handkerchief,  in  which  were  the 
missing  shells.  Later*  I  learned  that  my  wife  had 
removed  them  for  fear  our  little  boy  would  get  hold  of 
the  gun,  had  forgotten  to  tell  me  of  her  act,  and  had  sent 
the  shells  to  me  by  the  dog  as  soon  as  she  realized  that 
I  was  out  facing  lions  with  an  empty  gun.  It  seems  a 
miracle  that  I  was  able  to  load  and  fire  before  the 
crouching  lion  sprang,  but  the  miracle  was  performed, 
and  I  live  to  tell  the  tale. 

The  cover  for  deer  and  other  game  becomes  more 
dense  as  the  toll-road  gives  place  to  the  road  to  the 
Country  Club  on  McCloud  Eiver,  where  some  San  Fran 
ciscans  resort  for  fishing  and  hunting.  The  back  is 
turned  on  mighty  Shasta,  with  the  clouds  that  play  hide 
and  seek  with  its  summit,  and  for  twenty  miles  the  road 
leads  far  above  Squaw  Creek,  on  a  narrow  shelf, 
through  a  canyon  of  unparalleled  beauty.  The  slender 
stems  of  adjacent  pines  sway  in  the  wind,  sometimes 
in  unison,  but  more  often  in  a  manner  that  emphasizes 
the  beauty  of  their  stately  movements.  The  deep  green 
of  the  firs  blends  at  length  with  the  lighter  green  of  the 
oaks  and  the  butternuts.  From  far  beneath  comes  the 

237 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

sound  of  the  rushing  waters  of  the  creek,  and  gradually, 
from  beyond,  comes  the  deeper  boom  of  the  glorious 
McCloud  Eiver,  born  of  Shasta  snows,  bearer  of  life  to 
countless  fields,  home  of  the  trout  that  swim  so  tanta- 
lizingly  close.  The  waters  of  the  river  are  actually 
ten,  fifteen,  twenty  feet  deep,  even  when  they  seem 
most  invitingly  shallow.  Many  think  of  the  McCloud 
as  the  most  beautiful  stream  in  California, 

Squaw  Creek  Canyon  affords  one  of  the  best  oppor 
tunities,  in  a  region  readily  accessible,  to  see  a  virgin 
forest  in  a  great  watershed  that  feeds  the  streams  of  a 
fertile  land.  Within  easy  reach  are  other  canyons  and 
slopes  from  which  the  forests  have  been  removed  by  the 
lumberman  or  by  fire.  Some  of  these  areas  are  being 
replanted  with  pines  from  the  interesting  Pilgrim  Creek 
Nursery,  a  few  miles  away,  within  the  shadow  of  Shasta. 
There  hundreds  of  thousands  of  baby  trees  await  the 
time  of  their  transplanting  to  one  of  the  bare  areas. 
Ask  the  nurseryman  what  these  trees  will  be  like  in 
ten  years.  "If  all  is  well  they  will  be  as  high  as  you 
are,"  he  answers.  "And 'fifty  years  hence  1"  With  a 
smile  he  points  to  a  tree  perhaps  thirty  feet  high.  "We 
are  working  for  future  generations, ' '  he  explained.  The 
real  forester  must  know  how  to  be  a  dreamer  as  well 
as  a  practical  man. 

Perhaps  twelve  miles  from  the  nursery,  and  a  little 
closer  to  Shasta,  there  is  an  industry  that  destroys  in 
a  few  moments  the  forest  growth  of  years — the  McCloud 
Eiver  Lumber  Company,  pperating  two  of  the  greatest 
mills  in  California.  It  is  a  part  of  the  work  of  the 
modern  forester  to  show  how  such  mills  can  be  run 
with  real  benefit  to  the  forests,  :and  this  company 

238 


IN  THE   MOUNT  SHASTA   COUNTRY 

operates,  in  part,  on  trees  cut  from  government  land, 
under  skilled  supervision. 

There  are  few  industrial  sights  so  fascinating  as 
those  presented  by  a  modern  saw-mill  like  that  at 
McCloud.  The  machinery  seems  almost  human,  and  the 
men  who  tend  it  act  with  machine-like  precision.  Watch 
the  endless  chain  that  drags  the  logs  from  the  pond 
into  the  mill ;  the  steam-driven  cross-cut  saw  that  sends 
them  on  in  proper  lengths  for  cutting ;  the  eager,  sullen 
steel  fingers  that  roll  the  log  on  the  carriage  or  change 
its  position  that  another  side  of  it  may  be  squared ;  the 
head  sawyer,  always  on  the  alert,  never  at  a  loss,  who 
gives  his  directions  in  dumb  show  to  the  men  who  tend 
the  log  on  the  carriage ;  the  endless  band-saw  that  cuts 
through  the  log  as  if  it  were  cheese;  the  flying  saw 
dust,  now  of  pine,  again  of  fragrant  cedar,  that  makes 
one  think  of  an  old  attic.  Not  a  lost  motion,  not  a  lost 
moment,  not  a  lost  bit  of  product — even  the  sawdust 
feeds  the  fires  below.  Small  logs,  which  would  be  called 
large  in  many  parts  of  the  country,  are  squared  and 
cut  to  planks  in  from  two  to  three  minutes ;  a  log  five 
feet  in  diameter  is  reduced  to  lumber  in  seven  minutes ! 

There  cannot  be  many  years  before  the  great  mill 
will  be  dismantled.  But  the  forests  will  remain,  and 
because  the  forests  remain  the  McCloud  Eiver — with 
all  the  streams  that  come  from  Shasta — will  flow 
serenely  on  toward  the  plains. 

And  high  above  rivers  and  forests  cloud-enveloped, 
snow-clad  Shasta  will  endure,  mutely  inviting  to  its 
shelter  the  pilgrims  who  look  this  way  for  vacation  joy, 
smiling  from  its  lofty  height  on  those  who  seek  respite 
from  care  in  the  vacation  areas  so  abundantly  provided 
in  the  great  Shasta  Forest. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
FROM  CRATER  TO  CRATER  IN  OREGON 

MOST  travelers  from  the  south  approach  Port 
land  by  way  of  the  wonderfully  fertile  Wil 
lamette  Valley,  between  the  Coast  Range  and 
the  Cascade  Mountains,  for  the  convenient  railroad  is 
there.    Thus  they  miss  the  glorious  scenery  of  Central 
Oregon,  in  the  Cascades  and  east  of  the  mountains. 

While  there  is  as  yet  no  railroad  route  through  this 
favored  section,  there  is  a  system  of  practicable  roads 
that  make  accessible  nearly  every  portion  of  the  dis 
trict.  Automobile  stages  go  to  many  points  to  which 
railroads  have  not  yet  penetrated,  and  the  cars  of  those 
who  seek  the  famous  camping  or  fishing  grounds  in 
the  Deschutes  National  Forest  may  be  met  during  the 
season  in  almost  any  road. 

The  nearly  two  million  acres  of  the  Deschutes  Forest 
are  penetrated  by  a  network  of  one  thousand  miles  of 
road,  in  addition  to  trails  innumerable.  These  roads 
and  trails  lead  to  mountain  peaks  where  snow  and 
glaciers  add  beauty  and  tempt  the  climber ;  lakes  where 
boating  and  fishing  are  provided  in  prodigal  fashion; 
lava  beds  and  craters  which  tell  eloquently  of  upheavals 
in  ages  long  gone ;  rivers  that  have  their  source  in  bub 
bling  springs  or  melting  snows;  cascades  that  are  so 
numerous  it  is  difficult  to  catalogue  them;  ice  caverns 
where  the  temperature  is  always  below  freezing;  soda 
springs  and  hot  springs  and  sulphur  springs ;  mountain 
meadows  where  cattle  graze  by  the  thousand ;  and  trees 
— white  pine  and  yellow  pine,  spruce  and  fir  and  hem 
lock,  lodge  pole  pine  and  other  kindred  forest  growth. 

240 


FROM  CRATER  TO  CRATER  IN  OREGON 

The  Cascade  Mountains,  which  are  the  backbone  of 
the  Deschutes  Forest,  really  begin  in  California.  Best- 
less  Lassen  Peak  perhaps  marks  the  southern  limit  of 
the  system,  while  Mount  Shasta  dominates  it  on  the 
south  as  does  Mount  Eainier  on  the  north. 

Mount  Shasta  is  long  in  the  view  of  those  who  pass 
northward  on  the  search  for  the  Oregon  Cascades. 
Klamath  Falls,  from  its  commanding  situation  on  Kla- 
math  Lake — the  largest  body  of  fresh  water  west  of 
the  Rocky  Mountains — looks  away  to  Shasta  with  pro 
found  appreciation  of  its  utility;  the  twenty-five  thou 
sand  Indians  who  live  on  the  great  Klamath  Indian 
Eeservation — every  adult  of  them  said  to  be  worth,  on 
the  average,  twenty-five  thousand  dollars — know  of 
Shasta  and  delight  in  its  beauty. 

Reluctantly  the  traveler  loses  sight  of  Shasta,  but 
soon — just  before  he  comes  to  the  bounds  of  the  Des 
chutes  Forest — he  is  under  the  shadow  of  the  mighty 
peak  that  hides  the  wonder  on  whose  account  a  national 
park  has  been  created — Mount  Mazama,  in  the  dim 
past  an  active  volcano  until  it  lost  its  head  and  wel 
comed  Crater  Lake  to  its  embrace.  Once  the  mountain 
must  have  been  lofty  as  other  volcanic  peaks  of  the 
Cascades — Mount  Shasta,  Mount  Hood,  Mount  Rainier 
and  a  dozen  more.  But  the  cone  blew  off  or  fell  in — 
how  many  thousand  feet  of  it  cannot  be  guessed — and 
the  only  reminders  of  the  days  of  ages  of  fire  long  gone 
by  are  the  great  ridges  that  form  the  massive,  lofty 
rim  of  the  lake  on  the  mountain  top. 

The  approach  is  easy  to  this  marvel  of  which  the 
sadly  overworked  word  "  unique  "  can  be  used  with  pro 
priety.  Automobile  roads  climb  to  the  lake  both  from  the 
east  and  from  the  west,  and  these  roads  are  usually  open 

16  241 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

by  July  1  or  a  few  days  earlier.  But  when  the  author 
made  his  pilgrimage  to  what  Joaquin  Miller  called  '  *  The 
Sea  of  Silence, "  great  drifts  of  snow  still  blocked  the 
way,  and  it  was  necessary  to  leave  the  machine  and 
clamber  for  two  miles  over  the  barrier.  This  was  for 
tunate  ;  snow-climbing  proved  the  best  possible  prepara 
tion  for  the  vision  that  opened  unexpectedly  as  the 
final  drift  was  surmounted — a  lake  that  glowed  like  a 
great  jewel  of  amethyst  one  thousand  feet  below  the 
precipice  to  which  the  road  leads.  The  first  white  man 
who  stood  here,  in  1853,  insisted  on  calling  it  Deep 
Blue  Lake,  and  the  name  persisted  until  1869 ;  then  it 
was  changed  to  Crater  Lake. 

But  Crater  Lake  is  blue,  wonderfully  blue,  unbeliev 
ably  blue.  The  varied  color  scheme  of  the  pine-clad  lava 
walls  emphasizes  by  contrast  the  regal  beauty  of  the 
waters  in  the  depths  which  seem  to  speak  the  words  of 
the  Psalmist,  "Be  still,  and  know  that  I  am  God." 
Thus  they  spoke  to  the  Indians ;  the  Klamaths  and  the 
Modocs  believed  that  their  god  Gaywas  lived  in  the  lake. 
And  thus  the  waters  speak  to  visitors  to-day ;  a  timber- 
man  who  for  the  first  time  gazed  in  rapture  on  the  lake 
and  its  surroundings  took  off  his  hat,  lifted  his  hand 
to  heaven,  and  said,  reverently,  i  i  How  can  anyone  who 
looks  at  that  doubt  that  there  is  a  God !" 

The  surface  of  the  lake  is  broken  by  two  rocky 
islets — Wizard  Island,  which  the  Indians  declared  was 
the  head  of  an  enemy  of  their  god,  who  was  thrown  into 
the  water.  Then  there  is  the  smaller,  Phantom  Ship — 
so  called  because,  to  those  who  take  the  delightful  trip 
over  the  lake  in  a  motor  boat,  it  seems  to  disappear 
and  then  reappear  in  a  most  puzzling  manner.  Of 
course  the  explanation  of  the  mystery  is  the  changing 

242 


FROM  CRATER  TO  CRATER  IN  OREGON 

lights  and  shadows  far  down  beneath  the  encircling 
cliffs,  some  of  them  two  thousand  feet  high. 

For  years  the  only  way  to  circle  the  lake  was  on  the 
surface  of  the  water,  but  there  is  now  a  road  around 
the  entire  rim — first  used  in  1919 — from  which  the 
ever-changing  beauties  of  this  queen  of  mountain  lakes 
can  be  studied  at  leisure.  This  road  is  to  be  a  part 
of  the  great  scenic  highway  that  is  to  lead  along  the 
summits  of  the  Cascades,  all  the  way  to  Mount  Hood. 
For  a  distance  of  two  hundred  miles  this  road  in  the 
clouds  will  be  a  mile  or  more  high. 

In  silence  the  visitor  leaves  Crater  Lake,  but,  if  he 
takes  the  road  along  Sand  Creek — which  is  born  on 
Mount  Mazama — he  will  soon  find  his  voice,  in  amaze 
ment  at  the  hundreds  of  lava  chimneys  that  rise  like 
church  spires  from  the  sides  of  the  canyon  where  the 
creek  has  its  bed.  These  hollow  vents  are  fifty,  one  hun 
dred,  even  one  hundred  and  fifty  feet  high,  and  are  in 
plain  view  from  the  road  down  the  mountain. 

The  fascinating  roads  lead  leisurely  away  through 
the  forest — now  up,  now  down,  through  aisles  of  great 
trees,  and  along  torrents  from  the  mountains;  now 
crossing  them  over  rustic  bridges,  again  fording  them 
in  most  attractive  spots.  After  sixty  miles  of  such 
roads  Odell  Lake  appears,  a  highland  bit  of  liquid 
beauty,  where  campers  and  fishermen  delight  to  go,  and 
where  many  of  those  who  search  for  the  beautiful  say 
they  find  more  real  satisfaction  than  even  at  Crater 
Lake.  "I  can't  tell  you  why  I  enjoy  looking  at  Odell  as 
I  do, ' '  one  visitor  said.  l '  To  describe  this  lake  is  impos 
sible.  You  are  right  here,  looking  at  things  as  they 
were  made,  and  you  can  no  more  tell  about  it  in  precise 
terms  than  you  can  tell  why  you  love  your  best  friend. ' ' 

243 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

But  even  if  it  is  impossible  to  describe  Odell  accu 
rately,  it  is  possible  to  have  such  an  experience  of  its 
charms  that  these  will  never  be  forgotten.  Take  a  good 
look  at  the  lake  from  the  hill  on  which  the  comfortable 
log  cabin  resort  for  the  tourist  is  built.  Cruise  in  a 
motor  boat  along  twenty  miles  of  varied  shore  line. 
Look  up  at  the  snow-clad  peaks  to  the  right  and  to  the 
left — Crater  Butte  and  Diamond  Peak  and  Maiden 
Peak.  Look  down  at  their  reflection  in  the  clear  water, 
where  the  trout  can  be  seen  many  feet  below  the  surface. 
Enter  a  bay  with  its  beach  sloping  gently  from  the  pines, 
or  take  the  shore  at  a  point  where  the  water  drops 
quickly  away  to  the  depths.  Eamble  through  the  pri 
meval  forest  that  clothes  the  shores,  the  ridges  and  the 
mountains  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  Scramble  along 
the  banks  of  Trapper  Creek,  or  Maiden  Creek,  from 
the  mouth  as  far  back  as  you  choose  to  go.  Climb  the 
rock  slide  on  Diamond  Point,  and  look  down  at  the  blue 
lake  three  hundred  feet  below,  and  over  to  Diamond 
Peak,  with  its  glacier-burdened  slopes.  Look,  and  say 
that  life  is  good.  Do  this,  and  other  things  like  this — 
for  a  day,  if  you  have  only  a  day ;  for  a  week,  if  you  can 
spend  so  long  a  time  there.  And  see  if  you  will  not  for 
get  to  grouch !  You  will  go  away  a  better  man,  easier 
to  live  with  and  a  lot  more  comfortable  to  yourself. 

In  this  enchanted  land  lakes  by  the  score  lie  along 
the  forest  roads  and  trails.  Some  day  every  one  of  them 
will  have  a  thousand  visitors  for  one  who  goes  there 
to-day ;  some  day  sumptuous  hotels  will  invite  the  tour 
ist.  Now,  however,  those  who  go  to  these  places  can 
have  the  joy  of  finding  primitive  conditions ;  there  may 
be  a  log  cabin  camp  with  its  evening  fire  in  the  massive 
fireplace,  and  its  morning  ice-bound  water-bucket — even 

244 


FROM  CRATER  TO  CRATER  IN  OREGON 

in  June  or  July — giving  chill  greeting  to  those  who 
would  fill  the  wash-basin.  Or  it  may  be  necessary  to 
seek  the  hospitality  of  some  Forest  Eanger,  or  to  eat  in 
a  cow  camp,  or  with  the  timber  cruisers — the  men  who 
look  at  a  tree  as  a  character  analyst  looks  at  a  man,  and 
make  accurate  estimate  of  the  standing  timber  in  a 
section  of  the  forest. 

For  a  time,  in  1919,  a  company  of  timber  cruisers  had 
their  headquarters  on  the  edge  of  Crane 's  Prairie,  not 
far  from  Odell  Lake,  a  remarkable  mountain  meadow 
where  the  forest  opens  out  to  make  pasture  for  thou 
sands  of  cattle.  The  tumultuous  Deschutes  Eiver  winds 
its  way  along  its  borders — a  stream  whose  flow  is  so 
regular  that  it  is  possible  for  the  highway  to  cross  it 
by  bridges  that  are  but  a  foot  or  two  above  the  water. 
Any  surplus  supply  of  water  is  lost  in  the  lava  through 
which  the  river  flows. 

All  through  the  Deschutes  Forest  there  are  marks 
of  the  days  of  fire  when  the  lava  poured  down  from  the 
craters  and  overwhelmed  the  earth.  Great  ridges  rise 
here  and  there,  like  slag  from  an  immense  steel  furnace. 
Buttes  are  found  in  unexpected  places,  their  conical 
sides  one  mass  of  lava.  And  everywhere  are  mountains 
that  once  belched  forth  molten  fire,  but  long  since  be 
come  cold  and  dead. 

Most  of  these  craters  are  worthy  of  notice,  but  there 
is  one  in  particular  that  surpasses  its  neighbors  as 
the  sun  surpasses  the  moon.  Not  far  from  the  Des 
chutes  Eiver,  as  it  approaches  the  lumber-mill  town 
of  Bend,  is  Newberry  Crater — with  the  exception  of 
Mount  Mazama  perhaps  the  most  remarkable  of  all 
the  one-time  channels  of  fire  in  the  journey  from  the 
bowels  of  the  earth. 

245 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Mount  Newberry  rises  three  thousand  feet  above  the 
valley  of  the  river,  which  is  itself  more  than  four  thou 
sand  feet  high.  The  summit  is  easy  of  access,  a  road 
practicable  for  automobiles  leading  upward  through 
the  pine  forests  until  it  emerges  within  the  old-time 
crater.  This  is  eight  miles  across  and  of  proportionate 
circumference.  Within  the  uplifted  walls  of  the  crater 
nestles  Paulina  Lake.  Separated  from  Paulina  by  a 
lofty  obsidian  ridge,  and  seventy  feet  higher,  is  East 
Lake.  On  its  shore  is  a  little  hotel  where  visitors  are 
learning  to  go,  attracted  by  the  beauty  of  the  surround 
ings  or  by  the  curative  properties  of  the  boiling  water 
that  gushes  up  everywhere  within  the  crater,  in  re 
sponse  to  borings  in  the  lava  bed.  Some  day  soon  there 
will  surely  be  here  a  modern  hotel,  adapted  to  the  needs 
of  tourists  and  health-seekers.  In  the  meantime  visitors 
have  the  privilege  of  seeing  the  lakes  before  their  com 
mercial  exploitation  begins. 

The  twin  lakes  were  long  a  favorite  resort  of  the 
Indians,  who  delighted  to  glide  in  their  canoes  over  the 
waters  of  East  Lake,  waters  remarkably  still  save  for 
the  surface  bubbling  of  the  thousands  of  springs  far 
beneath.  Or  they  liked  to  pass  from  Paulina  Lake  along 
its  outlet,  Paulina  Creek,  and  stand  in  wonder  before 
the  falls  where  the  stream  leaps  from  the  lake  level 
over  the  precipices  of  lava  into  the  glacier-made  can 
yon  leading  toward  the  Deschutes.  Usually,  however, 
their  errand  to  the  wonderland  of  the  crater  was  less 
peaceable.  Scattered  everywhere  were  great  masses 
of  obsidian,  the  glass-like  substance  that  served  so 
admirably  for  their  arrow-heads  and  other  weapons  of 
war.  Arrow-heads  left  behind  by  these  old-time  artifi 
cers  may  still  be  found  near  the  shores  of  the  lakes. 

246 


NORTH    FORK    OF    ROGUE    RIVER,    OREGON,    NEAR   MEDFORD 


WHITE  PELICANS  ON  KLAMATH  LAKE 


PAULINA    FALLS,    NEAR    NEWBERRY    CRATER,    OREGON 


FROM  CRATER  TO  CRATER  IN  OREGON 

The  best  view  of  the  lakes  of  Newberry  Crater  is 
not  from  their  shore,  or  even  from  the  ridge  that 
separates  them,  but  from  the  rocky  summit  of  Paulina 
Peak,  nearly  two  thousand  feet  above,  reached  by  a  trail 
that  is  practicable  for  almost  anybody.  The  steepness 
of  the  comparatively  short  way  is  forgotten  when  the 
beholder  looks  down  on  the  lakes  in  their  setting  of 
green,  with  lava  precipices  and  ridges  about  them,  and 
on  the  lava  flow  near  by  which  seems  like  a  writhing 
river,  turning  round  and  round  in  whirls,  frozen,  black, 
forbidding.  Then  the  eye  leaps  to  an  overwhelming 
prospect,  a  vision  of  tremendous  extent  and  grandeur. 
To  the  north,  far  across  intervening  plains  and  lesser 
mountains,  appear  Mount  Adams,  Mount  Jefferson, 
Mount  Hood,  and  even  Mount  Rainier.  To  the  west  are 
the  Three  Sisters,  Diamond  Peak,  and  Bachelor  Butte. 
In  the  east,  the  barren,  yellow  plains  of  the  Great  Sandy 
Desert,  Hampton  and  Glass  Buttes,  and  the  far-away 
mountains  of  Nevada  lift  their  heads.  To  the  south  is 
Mount  Shasta;  and  to  the  northwest  are  Mount  Scott 
and  Mount  Thielsen.  Thus  from  this  one  elevated  point 
of  vantage  summits  in  four  states  are  visible. 

Sometimes,  even  in  summer,  weeks  pass  without  the 
coming  of  anyone  to  rejoice  in  this  tremendous  vision. 
But  every  day  of  the  summer  there  is  one  who  keeps 
his  lonely  vigil  on  Paulina  Summit — the  keen-eyed 
observer  who,  from  his  rocky  observatory,  sweeps  his 
eye  over  miles  of  forest,  prepared  to  send  instant  word 
to  forest  headquarters  of  the  first  sign  of  a  fire  that 
might  threaten  countless  miles  of  priceless  timber. 

And  he  is  but  one  of  the  sturdy,  fearless  men  who 
watch  thus  over  the  area  set  apart  for  the  enjoyment  of 
the  people  and  the  enrichment  of  the  land. 


CHAPTER  XXVH 
A  MOUNTAIN  DINNER,  AND  OTHER  DINNERS 

THE  town  of  Bend,  Oregon,  is  noted  not  only  be 
cause  of  its  huge  sawmills  but  also  because  it  is 
a  convenient  starting  point  for  all  sorts  of  trips, 
each  of  compelling  interest  and  peculiar  beauty.    Some 
of  them  may  be  made  by  rail,  others  by  motor,  and  still 
others  by  trail. 

Perhaps  the  most  attractive  short  trip  is  northwest 
for  fifty  miles,  through  valley  and  forest,  with  white- 
crowned  peaks  rising  in  almost  continuous  line  on  the 
west — Broken  Top  and  Bachelor  Butte,  Three  Sisters 
and  Mt.  Washington,  Three-fingered  Jack  and  Mt.  Jef 
ferson — a  noteworthy  succession  of  summits  from 
which  it  is  difficult  to  turn  the  eyes  to  more  prosaic 
sights  like  the  Tumalo  dam,  a  state  project  not  entirely 
successful  because  no  way  has  been  found  to  retain  the 
water  that  persists  in  filtering  away  through  the  lava 
beds.  Yet  the  sight  of  the  sagebrush  on  land  untouched 
by  water  and  the  contrasting  green  fields  of  the  home 
steaders  nerves  the  projectors  to  keep  on  striving  for 
the  reward  that  will  certainly  crown  their  efforts  to  add 
one  more  triumph  to  the  epic  of  desert  conquest. 

At  length  the  forests  vie  with  the  mountains  in  hold 
ing  the  eye.  In  these  forests  the  brown  of  the  curiously 
marked  bark  of  the  yellow  pine  harmonizes  well  with 
the  vivid  green  of  the  feathery  larches.  Then,  high 
above  the  forest,  there  towers  the  great  bulk  of  Black 
Butte — called  black,  perhaps,  because  it  is  not  bare  as 
are  some  other  volcanic  cones  of  the  region ;  it  is  really 
green  with  the  pines  that  crowd  its  pleasing,  sym- 

248 


MOUNTAIN  DINNER,  OTHER  DINNERS 

metrical  slope.  In  a  spring  near  the  base  of  the  butte 
the  Metolius  Eiver  has  its  birth,  and  soon  the  road  is 
winding  along  the  banks  of  this  swiftly-flowing  stream 
where  the  fisherman  has  learned  to  seek  the  elusive 
trout.  Here  and  there  in  sequestered  nooks  by  the 
Metolius  are  permanent  camps  where  pioneering  boni- 
f aces  look  after  the  comfort  of  the  anglers. 

On  a  glorious  day  in  June  four  men  motored  along 
the  Metolius,  in  full  enjoyment  of  the  rare  country. 
Just  at  lunch-time  a  house  was  seen  on  whose  front 
was  placarded  an  invitation  to  rest  and  eat.  But  the 
driver  said  the  men  should  go  on  a  few  miles  to  a  place 
hidden  away  in  a  bend  of  the  Metolius.  He  assured 
them  that  they  would  not  be  sorry  if  they  waited,  for 
the  dinners  cooked  there  were  famous. 

At  last  the  ranch  was  so  close  that  it  was  almost 
possible  to  smell  the  dinner.  But  within  a  mile  or 
two  of  the  promised  land  a  morass  across  the  road 
caused  the  driver  to  shake  his  head  anxiously.  A  detour 
led  to  within  a  short  distance  of  the  dinner,  when  a 
bridge  repair  gang  announced,  "No  thoroughfare." 
Again  a  detour  brought  the  hungry  quartette  within 
shouting  distance  of  the  delectable  meal.  Imagination 
was  working  overtime  on  crisp  trout  and  blueberry  pie 
when  a  machine  loaded  to  the  guards  approached. 
" How's  that  for  luck?"  the  driver  asked,  emphatically. 
Was  something  wrong  with  the  engine  ?  Would  a  third 
delay  be  necessary?  But  a  more  awful  disclosure  was 
to  be  made.  "That's  the  whole  blooming  family  from 
the  ranch — the  Mr.,  the  Mrs.,  the  cook  and  all  the  rest," 
the  driver  said,  in  deep  disgust.  "Now  doesn't  that 
jar  you?" 

But  he  drove  on.    What  else  was  there  to  do  f    Per- 

249 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

haps  one  of  the  girls  had  been  left  behind  to  look  after 
the  house,  or  possibly  the  door  would  be  open,  after 
the  easy-going,  confident  manner  of  Oregon  dwellers 
in  the  country. 

Yes,  the  door  was  open.  But  for  form's  sake  a 
halloo  was  given  and  there  came  an  answering  hail 
from  the  barn.  In  a  moment  the  son  of  the  house 
was  at  hand. 

"Now  ain't  that  too  bad!"  he  said.  "Four  hungry 
men,  and  the  folks  all  gone  to  the  dance  at  Tumalo. 
Me?  Oh,  I'm  shearing  the  sheep!  I've  finished  with 
seventy-two,  and  there  are  only  two  hundred  in  all. 
.  .  .  No,  I  don't  care  to  go  to  dances  and  such 
foolishness.  Me  for  the  woods  and  the  river,  every 
time.  .  .  .  Yes,  I  stay  here  the  year  round.  Towns 
get  my  goat.  Last  winter  the  folks  went  to  town,  but 
I  stayed  on  the  place.  .  .  .  Lonesome  ?  Nothing  to 
it!  The  place  to  get  lonesome  is  in  a  big  town  like 
Bend.  ...  I  had  the  time  of  my  life  here.  There 
was  plenty  of  work,  and  there  was  lots  of  loafing. 
Killed  three  deer,  the  two  the  law  allowed,  and  one 
I  didn't  get  the  winter  before.  You  should  have  seen 
the  buck  that  led  me  a  chase  beginning  at  that  point 
of  rock  over  there ;  he  was  off  before  I  could  pot  him, 
across  the  river  and  through  the  pines.  Finally  I  got 
him  over  there  on  Green  Eidge.  .  .  .  Get  tired  of 
deer  meat,  you  say!  I  could  eat  it  three  times  a  day, 
every  day  in  the  year.  .  .  .  Snow  1  Oh,  yes,  it  did 
snow  some.  See  that  fence?  Well,  the  snow  was  up 
to  the  top  bar.  .  .  .  Can  I  cook?  Well,  I  guess — 
but  not  like  Marm.  You  should  taste  her  dinner.  Don't 
ask  any  Oregon  rancher  if  he  can  cook.  .  .  .  Like 

250 


MOUNTAIN   DINNER,  OTHER  DINNERS 

something  to  eat  soon,  you  say?  Well,  just  wait  till  I 
change  these  sheep  clothes  and  wash  up ! " 

It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  the  way  he  went  at  that  din 
ner.  Some  school  of  domestic  science  ought  to  endow  a 
chair  of  kitchen  fire-building  and  invite  that  young 
sheep-shearer  to  be  the  incumbent.  And  the  way  he 
cooked !  It  would  not  be  fair  to  tell  what  was  set  on  the 
table  an  hour  later ;  there  might  be  too  many  inquiries 
for  the  location  of  that  ranch. 

After  dinner  the  cook  was  persuaded  to  leave  his 
beloved  sheep  long  enough  to  point  out  the  trail  to  a 
camp  five  miles  down  the  river.  " First  time  I've  been 
here  in  three  years, ' '  he  said.  Now  that  the  unwonted 
outing  had  been  taken  those  who  heard  him  wondered 
if  he  would  wait  three  years  more  before  repeating 
the  performance.  Perhaps  so — at  least  if  one  could 
judge  from  the  eager  lope  with  which  he  hurried  off 
to  the  ranch  when  he  was  deposited  a  mile  away  in 
the  forest. 

The  sheep-shearer  had  company  among  the  cooks 
who  ministered  to  the  quartette  that  week.  There  was 
the  lone  tender  of  the  dam  at  Pringle  Falls,  the  deserted 
village  in  the  forest  where  the  sawmill  stands  idle  with 
a  log  on  the  carriage,  where  the  workmen's  homes  are 
empty  and  the  closed  post-office  still  contains  in  the 
boxes  papers  uncalled  for  when  the  town  met  the  fate 
of  so  many  settlements  in  the  forest.  Fortunately  the 
home  of  the  watcher  at  the  old  dam  was  occupied,  and 
what  a  dinner  he  did  cook !  Fish  was  the  chief  thing  on 
the  bill  of  fare — fish  directly  from  the  stream,  fish  by 
the  platterful,  more  fish  for  each  hungry  man  than 
it  is  wise  to  say. 

Another  sawmill  that  was  not  deserted  was  ap- 

251 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

proached  just  as  the  whistle  sounded  the  welcome  call 
to  the  mid-day  meal.  The  hungry  travelers  were  given 
leave  to  respond  with  the  workers,  and  they  decided 
that  those  mill  men  have  no  cause  for  complaint  against 
the  autocrat  the  company  has  placed  in  charge  of  the 
kitchen.  Quickly  the  bountifully  spread  table  was 
cleared,  and  then  the  men,  each  bearing  his  own  dishes 
with  him  to  the  pantry,  hurried  away,  some  to  work 
and  some  to  play. 

A  cook  who  knew  his  business  was  found  at  a  camp 
of  timber  cruisers  in  the  depths  of  the  forest.  i  i  Sorry 
I  haven't  anything  extra  to  give  you,"  he  apologized. 
But  if  the  meal  he  served  was  ordinary,  let  ordinary 
cooking  be  made  compulsory !  Men  of  the  woods  need 
substantial  food,  well  cooked,  and  the  cook  at  that  camp 
knows  how  to  give  it  to  them. 

On  a  lonely  peak  nearly  nine  thousand  feet  high, 
at  a  forest  signal  station,  the  travelers  found  a  man  on 
lookout  duty.  His  supplies  of  food  were  still  meagre ; 
most  of  the  eatables  provided  for  him  were  waiting  far 
down  the  trail  below  the  .drifted  snow.  But  the  men 
helped  him  bring  in  the  cached  supplies,  and  then  were 
ready  to  share  his  fare.  They  were  thirsty,  too,  but 
when  they  saw  how  little  water  there  was  in  his  cistern 
above  the  clouds  they  forgot  thirst,  and  wished  him  well 
in  his  task  of  filling  the  tank  with  snow  that  water 
might  be  at  hand  during  the  long  days  and  nights  of 
his  summer  vigil. 

Perhaps  the  best-remembered  dinner  of  the  season 
of  western  wandering  was  served  at  Stehekin,  the 
landing-place  nestling  at  the  upper  end  of  wonderful 
Lake  Chelan,  in  Washington,  in  the  shadow  of  the  tow 
ering  Cascades.  During  the  fifty-mile  trip  on  the  little 

252 


L-AVA    LAKE,    THE   THREE    SISTERS,    AND   BACHELOR   BUTTE,    OREGON 


'CHOOSE  YOUR  FISH,"  LAKE  CHELAN 


MOUNTAIN  DINNER,  OTHER  DINNERS 

steamer  the  appetite  of  the  travelers  was  stimulated 
by  tales  of  the  glorious  trout  taken  from  the  waters  of 
the  lake.  So  at  Stehekin's  hotel  request  was  made  for 
a  fish  for  dinner.  " Sorry  we  cannot  oblige  you,"  was 
the  reply  of  the  host.  ' '  You  see,  the  law  will  not  permit 
us  to  serve  fish!" 

With  a  sigh  the  determination  was  made  to  put  up 
with  plain  bacon  for  another  meal.  But  skies  cleared 
instantly  when  a  young  woman  near  the  clerk  said: 
"We  caught  a  string  of  beauties  this  morning,  and  we 
can 't  eat  them  all.  Choose  your  fish ! ' ' 

The  men-hungry-f  or-trout  turned  to  see  two  laugh 
ing  young  women  in  outing  costume  proudly  holding  up 
an  array  of  fish.  They  smiled  at  the  protest  that  one 
fish  would  be  sufficient  for  two  men.  "No,  you  want 
one  each ;  they  do  not  weigh  more  than  two  pounds  and 
a  quarter  to  two  pounds  and  a  half ! ' '  Why  refuse  an 
invitation  like  that? 

When  the  fish  were  handed  over  by  the  generous 
catchers  they  looked  appetizing  enough.  But  when  they 
were  laid  on  the  table,  glistening,  brown,  crowned  with 
bacon  and  lemon,  who  could  resist  them?  Half  an  hour 
later  not  a  shred  of  either  trout  remained. 

There  is  nothing  like  mountain  wandering  to  make 
meals  appetizing — that  is,  nothing  but  hard  work.  Yet 
the  day  comes  when  work  drags  and  appetite  fails.  Then 
off  for  the  deep  forest,  the  steep  trail,  or  the  winding 
river,  and  find  new  life! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
THROUGH  CANYON  AND  GORGE  TO  PORTLAND 

UNTIL  recently  map-makers  called  Bend  Fare 
well  Bend.  The  name  was  given  by  pioneers 
bound  for  the  Willamette  Valley  because  here, 
at  the  one  spot  practicable  for  crossing  the  Deschutes, 
they  had  their  last  view  of  the  river. 

Almost  the  entire  distance  from  Bend  to  the  Colum 
bia,  the  Deschutes  is  hidden  far  down  between  canyon 
walls  that  were  as  forbidding  to  the  pioneer  as  they 
are  now  inviting  to  those  who  delight  in  looking  on 
scenic  grandeur  or  who  wish  to  examine  the  records 
of  earth-building. 

Not  many  years  ago  it  was  impossible  to  study  the 
great  gash  in  the  earth,  except  at  isolated  places.  Now, 
however,  two  railroads  follow  the  river  from  the  mouth 
up  to  Bend,  for  those  rivals  in  railroad  strategy,  Hill 
and  Harriman,  ran  a  race  to  see  who  would  first  reach 
the  headwaters  of  the  Deschutes.  The  story  of  the 
struggle  is  one  of  the  fascinating  chapters  in  the  record 
of  railroad  building.  Legal  battles  and  illegal  clashes 
between  the  construction  forces  were  finally  ended  by  a 
truce,  and  for  the  last  sixty  miles  of  the  journey  the 
two  roads  use  one  track. 

Fortunately  the  entire  distance  may  be  traversed 
during  the  day,  so  that  it  is  possible  to  study  the 
canyon  in  all  its  marvelous  outlines,  and  to  carry  away 
some  idea  of  what  the  United  States  Geological  Survey 
has  called  "the  fascinating  story  of  deep  erosion,  of 
subsequent  lava  flows  of  vast  extent,  and  of  renewed 

254 


COLUMNAR   BASALT    CLIFFS 


THROUGH  CANYON  AND  GORGE 

outpourings  of  molten  rock,  followed  by  another  long 
period  during  which  streams  renewed  the  work  of  denu 
dation  and  canyon  cutting. "  Massive  and  extensive 
as  the  canyon  is,  it  gives  but  a  hint  of  the  vast  extent 
of  the  lava  fields  and  volcanic  mountains  of  the  north 
west,  for  it  is  estimated  that  "not  less  than  150,000 
cubic  miles  of  dense  rock  have  there  been  transferred 
from  deep  within  the  earth  and  spread  out  on  its  sur 
face.  "  These  lava  deposits  vary  in  appearance  from 
the  glass  mountains  and  peaks  of  white  pumice  in  a 
part  of  Southern  Oregon  where  one  traveler  said  he 
felt  as  if  he  were  living  over  Alice  in  Wonderland, 
to  the  black,  forbidding  ridges  of  lava  and  the  buttes 
and  canyon  walls  farther  north. 

In  cutting  the  path  through  a  great  lava-covered 
plain  the  Deschutes  has  found  its  way  far  below  walls 
where  regular  pyramids  and  rugged  peaks,  castellated 
crags  and  symmetrical  cones  follow  one  another  with 
bewildering  rapidity ;  where  columns  of  basalt  stand  out 
in  the  precipices,  sometimes  in  most  orderly  array, 
again  in  fascinating  confusion ;  where  overlying  layers 
of  sandstone  lend  color  to  the  abyss.  The  gorge  is  fre 
quently  a  mile  wide  and  eight  hundred  feet  deep,  and  at 
least  five  distinct  geological  episodes  can  be  traced  in 
a  study  of  the  walls.  First  came  a  deposit  of  volcanic 
dust ;  then  lava  covered  the  dust ;  then  the  river  cut  its 
way  through  the  lava ;  then  a  second  lava  flow  filled  the 
canyon  to  a  depth  of  some  five  hundred  feet;  and 
finally  the  river  cut  its  way  once  more  through  the  later 
lava  flow. 

The  journey  through  the  Deschutes  canyon  should 
come  before  the  study  of  the  great  Columbia  Gorge 
from  the  mouth  of  the  smaller  river  on  to  the  Pacific. 

255 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

During  countless  ages  the  great  "River  of  the  West" 
has  fashioned  a  gorge  that  those  who  have  traveled  the 
world  over  say  is  not  to  be  matched  anywhere.  Visitors 
may  say,  "That  reminds  me  of  the  Highlands  of  the 
Hudson,"  but  before  they  complete  the  journey  they  are 
apt  to  forget  comparisons  in  the  silent  ecstasy  of  those 
who  realize  that  they  are  gazing  on  one  of  the  master 
pieces  of  the  Architect  of  the  Universe. 

Proudly  the  Oregon  Bureau  of  Mines  and  Geology 
calls  attention  to  the  fact  that  the  Columbia  is  one  of 
earth 's  greatest  rivers,  and  that  more  than  twenty-one 
hundred  miles  of  the  stream  and  its  tributaries  are 
navigable  water.  Then  it  adds  a  statement  far  more 
picturesque  than  any  figures:  "The  Columbia  Eiver  is 
further  distinguished  because  of  its  having  cleaved  from 
summit  to  base,  completely  through  the  structure  of  a 
great  mountain  mass — the  Cascade  Range.  .  .  .  As 
a  result  of  her  prowess  .  .  .  the  river  has  become 
the  front  doorway  to  a  vast  empire." 

From  the  time  of  the  first  discoverers  of  the  Colum 
bia  to  the  stirring  days  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's 
traders  and  trappers,  and  of  the  emigrants  who  made 
their  toilsome  way  down  the  valley  toward  the  sea,  there 
have  been  recorded  tales  of  amazement  at  the  wonders 
of  the  river  scenery.  The  building  of  the  railroads,  first 
along  the  south  bank,  then  along  the  north  bank,  enabled 
thousands  to  enjoy  these  wonders  where  before  one  had 
been  able  to  do  so.  But  not  until  the  recent  completion 
of  the  great  Columbia  River  Highway,  magnificent  in 
conception  and  stupendous  in  achievement,  has  it  be 
come  possible  to  see  the  river  and  its  noble  surround 
ings  as  these  cannot  be  seen  from  the  windows  of  a 
Pullman  car.  For  years  Samuel  C.  Lancaster  dreamed 

256 


THROUGH  CANYON  AND  GORGE 

of  the  road  and  talked  of  it  to  those  who  laughed  at  his 
idea.  But  he  clung  fondly  and  persistently  to  his  vision ; 
again  and  again  he  toiled  over  the  bluffs  and  the  moun 
tains,  seeking  the  most  practicable  route.  At  last  he  saw 
the  day  when  funds  were  available,  and  the  project 
was  finally  completed.  Then  his  acquaintances  no 
longer  laughed;  gladly  they  joined  the  hundreds  of 
thousands  who  each  year  pass  over  the  Highway. 

The  United  States  Forestry  Service  is  cooperating 
with  the  authorities  of  counties  and  states  in  making 
the  Highway  of  greatest  service  to  the  people.  A 
portion  of  it  traverses  the  Columbia  Gorge  Park  Divis 
ion  of  the  Oregon  National  Forest,  a  division  which 
includes  about  fourteen  thousand  acres,  all  dedicated 
to  purposes  of  recreation,  so  that  not  only  the  tourist, 
but  also  the  fisherman,  the  camper  and  the  lover  of  the 
long  trail  may  be  satisfied  here. 

Noteworthy  among  the  recreation  areas  is  Eagle 
Creek  Canyon,  where  there  are  camp  grounds,  parking 
space,  comfort  stations  and  a  winding  trail  that  goes 
far  back  up  the  gorge  of  Eagle  Creek  to  beautiful  Punch 
Bowl  Falls,  two  miles  from  the  river,  and  the  Wahtum 
Lake,  fifteen  miles  farther.  The  story  is  told  of  one 
of  those  who  laid  out  the  trail  that  one  day,  when  on  a 
narrow  path  on  the  face  of  a  precipice,  he  was  con 
fronted  by  a  bear  that  disputed  the  passage.  The 
trail-maker  had  no  weapon,  but  in  desperation  he  raised 
his  hand  and  waved  Bruin  back.  The  bear  retreated, 
hesitated,  then  returned.  This  time  the  endangered 
man  raised  both  hands  in  warning  and  appeal.  Once 
more  the  animal  walked  backward  most  sedately.  Then, 
after  a  second  pause,  he  returned  to  confront  the  man 
on  the  trail.  Finally  the  man  raised  both  hands  and 

17  257 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

gave  a  whoop  of — was  it  of  terror?  This  was  too  much. 
Bruin  retreated  a  third  time,  and  was  not  seen  again. 

While  most  travelers  begin  the  delightful  Gorge  tour 
at  Portland,  it  is  really  better  to  go  down  the  river 
towards  the  city  by  the  Willamette,  from  the  point 
where  the  Deschutes  joins  fortunes  with  the  larger 
river,  or  from  Hood  Eiver,  the  little  city  at  the  mouth 
of  the  fertile  valley  of  that  name,  one  of  the  numerous 
valleys  in  Oregon,  famous  for  land  so  well  adapted  to 
the  growth  of  luscious  fruits. 

For  seventy  miles  from  Hood  Eiver  the  journey  is  a 
bewildering  succession  of  vistas  of  river  and  mountains, 
from  easy  stretches  of  perfect  road ;  from  the  portals  of 
a  tunnel  through  a  massive  cliff,  where  parapets  have 
been  built  out  from  the  precipice;  from  lofty  Crown 
Point,  approached  by  one  of  the  finest  bits  of  road- 
building  on  the  continent,  a  long  succession  of  figure- 
eights,  where  the  grade  never  exceeds  five  per  cent, 
and  the  radius  of  the  curve  is  never  less  than  one  hun 
dred  feet.  Near  the  summit  of  Crown  Point  the  bal 
conies  of  Vista  House  and  the  balustrades  before  it 
afford  a  view  up  and  down  the  broad  river  for  seventy 
miles — a  view  of  cliff  and  island,  of  graceful  bends  and 
long  sweeps  between,  of  glittering  cascades  and  more 
quiet  waters,  of  green  mountain  slopes  and  tremendous 
precipices  of  columnar  basalt.  The  changing  lights  of 
morning,  noon  and  night  give  infinite  variety  to  the 
stately  scene,  but  the  prospect  is  best  at  sunset,  when 
the  long  and  varied  stretch  of  water  becomes  golden 
glory,  when  green  mountain  and  nestling  island,  rocky 
precipice  and  uplifted  pinnacle,  are  painted  as  no  artist 
would  dare  to  paint  them. 

There  are  precipices  along  the  river  that  do  not  need 

258 


INTERIOR      OF      MITCHELL'S      POINT      TUNNELS,      COLUMBIA 
RIVER   HIGHWAY,    SHOWING    "  THE    FIVE    WINDOWS  " 


~4** 


WILLAMETTE    VALLEY,    NEAR   NEWBURG,    OREGON 


THROUGH  CANYON  AND  GORGE 

to  wait  for  the  coloring  of  the  sunset.  Prominent  among 
these  are  Bed  Bluffs,  a  portion  of  the  north  abutment  of 
the  Bridge  of  the  Gods,  which,  according  to  Indian  myth, 
once  stretched  at  a  great  height  and  for  a  distance  of 
five  miles  above  the  river.  According  to  the  wonder- 
tale  this  bridge  was  built  by  Sahali,  the  Great  Spirit, 
who  separated  the  Klickitats  of  the  north  from  the 
Multnomahs  of  the  west,  by  raising  between  them  the 
Cascade  Eange.  Through  the  mountains  flowed  the 
Columbia,  and  across  the  river  was  thrown  the  great 
bridge.  On  the  bridge  was  stationed  Loowit,  guardian 
of  the  sacred  fire,  the  only  fire  in  the  world,  from  which 
the  Indians  of  all  tribes  received  supplies.  Among  the 
Indian  chiefs  who  fell  in  love  with  the  beautiful  guar 
dian  was  Klickitat  from  the  north  and  Wiyeast  from  the 
west.  The  rivals  went  to  war  and  ravaged  the  land.  In 
anger  Sahali  broke  down  the  bridge  and  killed  the  fire- 
guardian,  as  well  as  the  two  chiefs.  Over  their  graves 
he  built  great  monuments;  Mount  St.  Helens  became 
a  monument  to  the  fire-guardian,  while  Mount  Hood  and 
Mount  Adams  commemorated  the  rival  chiefs.  It  is 
easy  to  see  the  broken  abutments  of  the  bridge  far  up 
on  Table  Mountain,  the  fragments  of  rock  in  the  river 
below,  and  the  snow-capped  peaks  named  in  the  legend. 
The  haunting  beauty  of  fairy-like  waterfalls  will  be 
one  of  the  most  treasured  of  all  the  memories  of  the 
Columbia  Gorge  trip.  Most  of  them  may  be  seen  from 
the  Highway,  though  some  are  hidden  back  in  tributary 
canyons.  Metlaka  Falls  in  Eagle  Creek,  two  miles  from 
the  river,  are  more  than  one  hundred  feet  high,  while 
Oneonta  Falls,  less  than  a  thousand  feet  from  the  High 
way,  are  nearly  as  high.  Wahclella  Falls,  in  Tanner 
Creek,  are  higher  still,  and  Elowah  Falls,  on  McCord 

259 


THROUGH  CANYON  AND  GORGE 

is  casting  about  for  a  place  where  a  fair  stock  of  sense, 
industry  and  good  habits  will,  within  certain  limits,  pay 
certainly  and  well  in  any  honest  calling,  let  him  or  her 
take  passage  at  once  for  Portland  on  the  Willamette. 

Portland  might  have  been  known  as  Boston,  for,  in 
1848,  the  founders  of  the  town — one  of  whom  was  from 
Massachusetts,  while  the  other  was  from  Maine — 
flipped  a  copper  cent  to  decide  whether  the  name  should 
be  Portland  or  Boston.  The  Maine  man  won.  At  that 
time  Oregon  City  was  the  capital  of  Oregon,  and  in  the 
beginning  Portland  was  known  as  ' '  a  place  twelve  miles 
below  Oregon  City."  All  this  was  changed,  however, 
with  the  removal  of  the  capital  in  1851.  In  1869  the  city 
had,  according  to  a  description  written  at  the  time, 
"from  eight  to  nine  thousand  inhabitants,  who  pay 
almost  a  New  England  respect  to  the  Sabbath,  and 
dream  sometimes  that  it  is  a  rival  of  San  Francisco." 

And  now,  from  Council  Crest,  the  visitor  looks  down 
on  a  proud  city  whose  population  approaches  three  hun 
dred  thousand,  and  whose  port  rivals  that  of  Philadel 
phia  or  Baltimore. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
OLYMPIC   WANDERINGS 

THE  Forest  Banger  who  accompanied  the  author 
from  the  Columbia  to  the  Capital  of  Washing 
ton,  and  then  on  for  days  of  delight  in  the  Olym 
pic  Peninsula,  proved  a  proper  guide  to  the  land  whose 
name,  as  well  as  its  scenery,  speaks  of  Homer  and  the 
Iliad,  of  music  and  gaiety,  of  poetry  and  pleasure.  For 
he  was  a  real  musician.  During  a  pause  at  a  wayside 
ice-cream  parlor  his  fingers  found  their  way  to  the  keys 
of  a  piano.  At  the  first  note  an  old  man  who  had  just 
started  on  an  errand  across  the  road,  paused  at  the 
door,  entranced;  his  pipe  was  allowed  to  go  out,  his 
eyes  danced,  his  entire  attitude  showed  how  he  was 
carried  away  by  the  tender,  familiar  strains  he  had  not 
heard,  perhaps,  for  years.  The  woman  of  the  ice-cream 
parlor  stood  for  fifteen  minutes  at  another  door,  and 
not  until  the  piano  was  still  did  she  think  of  the  dishes 
she  had  gone  to  fill. 

The  forester  proved  his  skill  a  second  time,  when, 
during  the  hour  after  sunset,  he  began  to  sing  old  bal 
lads  in  a  subdued  tenor  that  charmed  away  the  weari 
ness  of  a  long  day's  travel  and  made  a  chance  passenger, 
picked  up  by  the  way,  forget  the  pain  because  of  which 
he  was  going  to  a  physician  in  Olympia. 

A  third  time  the  revelation  came  when  a  tree  or  a 
mountain,  a  bird  or  a  cloud,  would  turn  his  thoughts  to 
Bryant  or  Wordsworth,  Kipling  or  Stevenson,  Shakes 
peare  or  Browning,  and  he  would  softly  and  sympa 
thetically  quote  a  few  lines  or  a  stanza  or  two,  some- 

262 


OLYMPIC    WANDERINGS 

times  an  entire  poem,  never  obtrusively,  but  always  so 
as  to  deepen  the  impression  made  by  the  landscape  as 
he  led  the  way  through  forest  aisles  where  tall  straight 
trunks  reach  like  green  flagpoles  far  aloft,  by  rivers, 
sweeping  proudly  to  the  Pacific,  or  over  Cowlitz  Prairie, 
with  Mount  St.  Helens  on  the  east  and  Mount  Eainier 
looking  down  from  the  north.  This  prairie,  by  the  way, 
was  the  scene  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  farming 
operations  in  a  day  when  they  scattered  far  and  near 
the  gloomy  tidings  that  the  Oregon  Country  could  never 
be  the  home  of  husbandmen.  Fortunately  their  inter 
ested  propaganda  was  made  ineffective  by  such  men  as 
Marcus  Whitman  and  Jason  Lee,  who  carried  back  to 
friends  in  the  East  the  word  that  the  territory  that  is 
now  Washington  and  Oregon  could  support  millions. 

To-day  the  millions  foretold  make  their  homes  in  the 
favored  land,  while  representatives  of  other  millions 
seek  the  country  each  year  for  purposes  of  recreation. 
Unfortunately,  however,  most  of  those  who  go  to  Wash 
ington  confine  their  investigations  to  that  portion  of 
the  state  that  lies  east  of  Puget  Sound,  unmindful  of 
the  fact  that  to  the  west  of  that  extensive  inlet  from 
the  Pacific  lies  a  land  that  is  crowded  with  mountains 
for  the  climber,  lakes  for  the  boatman,  rivers  and 
streams  for  the  angler,  and  forests  filled  with  game 
for  the  hunter — forests  that  boast  one-seventeenth  of  all 
the  merchantable  timber  in  the  United  States. 

A  few  years  ago  this  rich  section  was  difficult  of 
access,  but,  since  the  completion  of  the  Olympic  High 
way  and  the  continued  development  of  the  Olympic 
National  Forest,  there  is  no  excuse  for  passing  on  the 
other  side  of  the  marvels  of  the  peninsula. 

From  Olympia  the  Highway  leads  to  Hood's  Canal, 

263 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

the  arm  of  Puget  Sound  that  looks  like  the  Highlands 
of  the  Hudson,  with  added  charms  of  its  own  that  make 
the  forty-mile  journey  along  its  western  shores  one 
prolonged  experience  of  gladness.  And  when  the  spark 
ling  blue  waterway  is  left  behind,  its  place  is  taken  by 
long  journeys  through  vast  forests  of  Douglas  fir  and 
cedar  and  hemlock  where  the  eye  turns  with  keen  relish 
to  the  ranks  of  trees  among  which  darkness  reigns 
even  at  mid-day,  or  follows  the  tall  stems  upward  until 
they  seem  to  touch  the  blue  sky.  Sometimes  the  road 
drops  into  a  mountain  glen  where  the  sunlight  barely 
penetrates  to  the  ground,  or  takes  precarious  foothold 
on  a  winding  ledge  far  above  a  canyon  in  whose  depths 
a  snow-fed  stream  rushes  on  to  some  convenient  river, 
among  the  trees  that  clothe  the  sides  of  the  abyss  up  to 
the  Highway  or  far  up  the  opposite  slope,  joining  the 
forest  on  the  mountain  side. 

It  is  good  to  be  among  Washington's  wonderful 
trees  early  in  the  morning,  when  the  sun  is  casting 
young  shadows.  Yet  those  who  pass  through  the  dense 
timber  growth  at  noontime  think  this  the  best  time  of 
all.  Some  prefer  a  rainy  day,  when  the  thick  foliage 
is  like  an  umbrella  and  the  forest  has  the  air  of  profound 
mystery.  But  the  choicest  hour  is  the  twilight,  when 
the  cedars  on  some  stand  like  minarets  against  the  eve 
ning  sky,  when  the  tops  of  the  firs  and  the  hemlocks 
are  graceful  silhouettes  with  a  background  of  blue 
fading  into  gray. 

The  winding  road  along  the  ridge  above  Elwha  Eiver 
— whose  milky  waters  tell  of  their  origin  amid  the 
glaciers  of  Anderson  Eange — seems  to  the  traveler  to 
be  the  acme  of  a  forest  road,  until  he  goes  farther  and 
finds  Douglas  firs  that  are  so  many  feet  in  diameter  that 

264 


OLYMPIC    WANDERINGS 

it  is  perhaps  better  not  to  give  figures ;  cedars  that  are 
stately  as  a  monument,  and  hemlocks  that  stand  like 
sentinels  in  the  midst  of  their  crowding  neighbors. 
Sometimes  these  roads  wind  in  bewildering  fashion 
among  the  monarchs;  again  they  lead  straight  as  an 
arrow  for  three  or  four  and  once  even  for  six  miles. 
So  thick  are  the  trees  that  those  bordering  the  roadside 
seem  to  be  planted  at  regular  intervals,  and  in  a  line 
almost  exact.  Under  the  trees  are  the  ferns  and  the 
moss-grown  prostrate  trunks,  or  the  rhododendrons,  or 
sometimes  the  bushes  that  flaunt  their  yellow  or  red 
salmon  berries,  the  delight  of  the  bears  that  are  still 
found  in  these  Olympic  shades. 

Yes,  there  are  bears  here,  and  wolves,  and  elk.  Chris, 
the  veteran  Forest  Eanger,  who  came  to  the  country 
from  a  New  York  City  banking  house  when  he  was  nine 
teen  years  old,  tells  of  his  recent  pursuit  by  two  wolves 
that  refused  to  be  scared  away  until  he  had  beguiled  and 
deceived  them  for  an  hour.  He  will  not  soon  forget 
those  long  moments  of  tense  anxiety.  He  has  more 
pleasure  in  thinking  of  the  eight  thousand  elk  now 
scattered  over  the  mountains  of  his  forest,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  law  that  threw  protecting  arms  about  them 
when  they  were  in  danger  of  extinction. 

The  Elwha  Eiver  is  a  favorite  haunt  of  the  elk,  as 
it  was  the  scene  of  the  contest  of  wits  with  the  persistent 
wolves.  Just  beyond  the  Elwha  lies  Crescent  Lake, 
where  Chris  once  picked  up  the  magnificent  spreading 
horns  dropped  by  an  elk  in  moulting  season,  horns  later 
sold  for  four  hundred  dollars. 

Crescent  Lake  is  the  rear  entrance  to  the  wonders 
of  the  Olympic  Mountains.  Its  blue  waters  rest  amid 
surrounding  foothills  which  crowd  close  and  once  almost 

265 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

come  together,  forcing  the  lake  to  make  the  passage  that 
helps  to  give  to  it  the  shape  from  which  it  takes  its  name. 

Until  recently  the  lake  was  a  link  in  the  Olympic 
Highway ;  the  road  had  not  been  built  around  its  shore, 
and  county  ferries  carried  travelers  for  the  ten  miles 
between  the  section  of  the  road  from  Olympia  and  the 
western  section  leading  to  the  Pacific  and  the  village  of 
the  Siwash  Indian  seal-hunters  beyond  Mora. 

When  the  Olympic  Highway  claims  the  south  shore 
of  Crescent  Lake,  this  once  almost  inaccessible  water 
way  will  be  entirely  surrounded  by  the  arteries  of 
civilization  and  progress.  For,  in  1918,  on  the  north 
shore,  was  completed  one  of  those  stupendous  govern 
ment  works  that  hastened  the  coming  of  peace  in  the 
Great  War — the  Spruce  Division  Eailway,  which  was  to 
bring  from  recesses  of  the  Olympic  forest  the  timber 
needed  for  the  projected  fleet  of  war  airplanes.  The 
railroad  was  of  little  use  for  the  purpose  for  which  it 
was  built,  but  in  days  of  peace  it  will  be  of  untold  value 
in  developing  the  resources  of  the  Peninsula,  and  in 
carrying  to  and  fro  those  who  seek  the  lake  on  whose 
wooded  shores  cottage  sites  and  vacation  areas  were 
preserved  inviolate  by  the  cooperation  of  the  War  De 
partment  and  the  Department  of  Agriculture. 

But  railroad  and  highway  have  not  yet  succeeded  in 
reaching  to  the  recesses  of  the  Olympic  Peninsula. 
Those  who  would  go  into  the  mysterious  cloud-wrapped 
mountains  and  study  the  glaciers  and  the  torrents,  or 
penetrate  to  the  densest  sections  of  the  primeval  forest, 
where  massive,  stately  firs  are  to  be  found  in  greatest 
abundance ;  where  rich,  rank  undergrowth  springs  under 
the  trees  in  a  manner  truly  tropical;  where  the  moss 
hangs  in  festoons  from  the  branches ;  where  game  and 

266 


OLYMPIC   WANDERINGS 

fish  abound,  must  take  to  the  upland  trails  that  lead  to 
all  parts  of  the  national  playground.  Some  of  these 
trails  are  difficult,  and  some  will  put  to  the  test  all  the 
mountain-climber's  endurance.  But  all  are  fascinat 
ing,  and  those  who  follow  them  will  return  with  enthu 
siasm  akin  to  that  of  the  hiker  from  near-by  Port 
Townsend,  who  told  of  the  impressiveness  of  standing 
on  the  mountain  slopes  and  watching  the  clouds  form 
and  disappear  beneath  him : 

From  a  perfectly  clear  sky  a  wisp  of  cloud  would 
come  floating  over  the  shoulder  of  Mount  Constance, 
and  go  winding  down  the  valley,  like  an  advancing 
army.  Tributaries  would  go  swirling  up  the  lateral 
divides  like  skirmish  lines  from  the  main  body.  Eddy 
ing  air  currents  would  beat  back  the  encroaching  mists ; 
but,  though  momentarily  checked,  the  hosts  of  the  sky 
would  marshal  their  columns,  force  their  way  to  the 
heads  of  the  draws  and  go  tumbling  over  the  crests  in 
one  seething,  billowy  mass  of  obliterating  whiteness. 
Here  and  there  some  lofty  crag  or  tree  top  would  appear 
above  the  flood,  showing  black  as  night  against  the  back 
ground  of  sky  and  cloud. 


P 


CHAPTER  XXX 
ON  PUGET  SOUND 

UGET  SOUND  has  been  called  "the  Mediterra 
nean  of  America,"  but  a  far  better  comparison 
was  made  by  John  Muir  when  he  likened  it  to 
Lake  Tahoe.  And  why  not  ?  Why  should  it  be  thought 
necessary  to  go  to  Europe  for  a  likeness  to  Washing 
ton's  great  waterway  when  America  is  able  to  surpass 
all  the  scenery  of  Europe? 

If  the  Strait  of  Juan  de  Fuca  be  included  in  the  esti 
mate,  as  it  should  be,  the  area  of  blue  water  in  the  great 
inlet  from  the  Pacific  is  about  two  thousand  square  miles 
— two  thousand  miles  bordered  by  mighty  forests,  thriv 
ing  towns  and  cities  and  towering  mountains ;  traversed 
by  great  ships  that  pass  to  and  from  all  nations ;  dotted 
with  green  islands  that  tempt  the  camper  and  the  home- 
seeker;  and  explored  by  the  tireless  athlete  and  the 
sportman  in  graceful  yacht  and  noisy  motor-boat. 

Most  people  think  only  of  Seattle  and  Tacoma  as 
Puget  Sound  cities,  but  there  are  others  that  should  be 
remembered  by  those  who  delight  in  the  picturesque. 
There  is  Port  Angeles,  the  lumbering  center,  celebrated 
for  the  pleasing  views  afforded  there  of  the  wonderful 
sunsets  beyond  the  hills  of  British  Columbia,  when  the 
Straits  are  painted  in  indescribable  colors,  and  of  the 
reflection  in  the  rippling  waters  of  the  rising  moon  that 
seems  never  to  be  so  radiant  as  above  Puget  Sound. 
There  is  Port  Townsend,  with  its  immigration  station, 
and  Anacortes  of  the  salmon  canneries,  whose  founder, 
Amos  Bowman,  named  it  Anna  Curtis,  in  honor  of  his 

268 


•:• 


ON  PUGET  SOUND 

wife;  a  town  to  be  remembered  with  Auburn,  farther 
south,  which  was  first  called  Slaughter,  for  a  naval 
officer,  but  the  coming  of  the  railroad  made  necessary 
so  many  repetitions  of  the  unpleasant  invitation,  ' '  This 
way  to  the  Slaughter  House, ' '  that  the  name  was  speed 
ily  changed.  There  is  Gray's  Harbor,  known  as  Bui- 
finch  Harbor  until  it  was  decided  that  the  place  should 
do  honor  to  Captain  Eobert  Gray,  discoverer  of  the 
harbor,  instead  of  to  the  owner  of  the  discoverer's  ship 
Columbia.  There  is  Bellingham,  where  electric  lights 
glowed  when  the  stumps  of  great  trees  still  stood  in 
the  streets;  Everett,  where  ocean  steamers  dock,  and 
Olympia,  Washington's  capital,  the  city  of  oysters, 
wooden  ships  and  comfortable  homes. 

But  Seattle  and  Tacoma  dominate  the  Sound.  When 
these  neighboring  cities  had  but  twenty  thousand  people 
each,  Muir  wrote  that  they  were  "far  in  the  lead  of  all 
others  in  the  race  for  supremacy."  Then  he  added, 
"These  two  are  keen,  active  rivals,  to  all  appearance 
well  matched. " 

Both  cities  have  had  a  strenuous  record  of  conquer 
ing  obstacles,  and  each  has  won  distinction  and  deserved 
admiration.  The  searcher  for  attractive  surroundings 
finds  it  difficult  to  choose  between  them ;  Tacoma  looks 
out  on  the  Olympics  to  the  West  and  on  the  Cascades  to 
the  East,  and  boasts  miles  of  parks-  and  perfect  roads. 
Seattle  has  made  the  most  of  its  waterways  and  inland 
lakes,  and  looks  serenely  from  its  hills  on  the  country 
that  pays  it  tribute.  Tacoma 's  people  are  perhaps  more 
conservative,  but  Seattle's  three  hundred  thousand  are 
ever  sighing  for  more  difficulties  to  conquer. 

Upon  both  cities  Mount  Eainier  looks  down  from  its 
height  of  14,408  feet — not  one  hundred  feet  less  than 

269 


SEEING  THE  FAR  WEST 

Mt.  Whitney,  the  highest  mountain  in  continental 
United  States ;  and  from  both  access  is  easy  to  the  sum 
mit  sought  by  so  many  mountain-lovers.  Good  roads 
enable  the  dwellers  by  the  Sound  to  pass  in  the  automo 
bile — and  within  four  or  five  hours — to  Paradise  Valley, 
above  Nisqually  glacier.  And  what  a  ride  of  vision 
theirs  is !  By  an  easy  grade  they  go  through  forests, 
along  canyons,  by  the  Nisqually,  whose  tumultuous 
course  from  the  glacier  to  the  sea  is  so  brief,  clear  to 
the  gate  of  Mount  Rainier  National  Park.  Then  across 
winding  streams  and  above  the  tops  of  lofty  trees,  in 
canyons  surmounted  by  switchbacks  and  other  engineer 
ing  triumphs,  within  sight  of  leaping  waterfalls,  to  the 
bridge  that  crosses  the  Nisqually  only  a  few  hundred 
feet  below  the  spot  where  the  waters  flow  from  under 
the  ice  of  the  parent  glacier.  Beyond  the  bridge  the 
rapidly  mounting  road  is  so  narrow,  and  the  height 
above  the  canyon  is  so  tremendous,  that  ascending  autos 
are  allowed  to  depart  only  at  specified  hours,  while 
descending  machines  cannot  begin  their  remarkable 
course  until  there  is  no  possibility  of  encountering  an 
opposing  machine.  At  Paradise  Valley — the  abode  of 
flowers  in  summer,  the  scene  of  the  great  ski  contests 
in  winter,  the  point  from  which  majestic  views  may 
be  secured  at  all  seasons — the  road  gives  way  to  the 
trail,  where  men  and  women  begin  their  twelve-hour 
climb  to  the  far-off  summit  for  the  vision  afforded  there, 
a  vision  of  at  least  one  hundred  miles  in  every  direction. 
James  Bryce,  the  English  author  of i  i  The  American 
Commonwealth,"  after  looking  from  this  summit,  de 
clared  that  "the  combination  of  ice  scenery  with  wood 
land  scenery  of  the  grandest  type  is  to  be  found 
nowhere  in  the  Old  World,  unless  it  be  in  the  Hima- 

270 


THE    ORIGINT    OF    A    GLACIER 


ON  PUGET  SOUND 

layas,  and — so  far  as  we  know — nowhere  else  on  the 
American  Continent. " 

There  are  almost  as  many  possible  approaches  to 
the  great  mountain  as  there  are  glaciers  radiating  from 
its  mighty  sides.  To  ascend  by  any  one  of  these  is  a 
triumph;  each  has  its  own  peculiar  charm.  But  the 
greatest  triumph  of  all  is  reserved  for  those  who  fol 
low  the  trails  that  make  the  circuit  of  the  peaks,  passing 
from  glacier  to  glacier,  and  so  discovering  one  by  one 
visions  that  enrapture  and  amaze.  Those  who  take  the 
arduous  journey  will  be  ready  to  join  in  the  involuntary 
exclamation  of  the  first  visitors  to  the  valley  of  flowers 
above  Nisqually  glacier.  "What  a  Paradise !"  was  the 
tribute — a  tribute  year  after  year  echoed  by  the  thou 
sands  who  pass  from  the  waters  of  Puget  Sound  to 
persuade  Rainier  to  yield  her  secrets. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
THE  JOY  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD 

44^1  ^VO  you  folks  who  live  among  these  moun- 
1  tains  appreciate  your  privileges  V9  a  visitor 

A-^^  asked  a  resident  of  California,  at  the  begin 
ning  of  his  own  pilgrimage  among  scenes  of  over 
whelming  grandeur. 

If  he  had  waited  a  week  or  two  the  query  would 
have  been  unnecessary.  For  everywhere  he  went  that 
summer  he  found  travelers  bound  for  the  forests,  the 
lakes,  the  mountains.  There  were  men  trudging  along 
the  road,  with  packs  on  their  backs,  smilingly  declining 
the  offered  lift  in  a  passing  machine ;  they  were  out  for  a 
hike,  and  they  could  not  think  of  lessening  the  joys 
of  vacation  by  entering  a  motor-car.  There  were  women 
on  horseback,  with  their  outfit  on  a  led  pack-horse ;  there 
were  whole  families  in  automobiles  whose  equipment 
was  roped  to  the  mudguards,  strapped  on  behind,  or 
overflowing  from  the  rear  seat  where  children  could  be 
distinguished  from  their  miscellaneous  surroundings 
only  by  their  gleeful  voices.  The  women  and  children 
wore  garments  like  those  of  the  men,  and  they  bore 
themselves  as  naturally  in  their  sensible  garb  as  if  it 
was  the  accustomed  dress  of  every  day.  Indeed,  many 
women  wear  their  outing  dress  about  the  house,  on 
the  ranch,  or  even  sometimes  in  the  market  town,  if  an 
errand  calls  them  there  suddenly. 

Clothing  is  not  the  only  evidence  of  naturalness  and 
comradeship.  All  who  travel  the  road  have  a  cheerful 
greeting  for  the  passer-by;  there  is  almost  invariably 
a  wave  of  the  hand  and  a  smile  that  seems  to  say,  " Isn't 
this  the  life?" 

272 


PACK    TKA1N    LOADED    WITH    DOUGLAS    FIR    PLANTS 


1TTING    BREAKFAST,    BLEWITT    PASS    HIGHWAY,    WENATCHEE    NATIONAL 
FOREST,    WASHINGTON 


THE  JOY  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD 

These  wanderers  from  home  are  not  all  of  the  leisure 
class,  either.  Clerks  from  the  city  and  ranchers  from 
the  country  fish  together  in  the  stream  or  pass  one 
another  on  mountain  trails.  A  Seattle  stenographer 
who  was  brought  up  amid  the  more  prosaic  surround 
ings  of  the  East  cannot  now  be  content  unless  she  has 
her  weeks  of  roughing  it  in  the  mountains.  "It  is  so 
good  to  sleep  on  pine  boughs  for  a  few  nights,  and  to 
wear  clothing  in  which  I  would  not  receive  callers, " 
she  said. 

The  family  of  a  Portland  office  worker  finds  health 
during  two  months  or  more  of  the  summer  in  six  acres 
of  forest  land  near  the  city.  There  father  and  mother 
sleep  on  the  ground  and  all  eat  daily  in  the  manner 
that  more  sophisticated  people  can  put  up  with  only  for 
a  single  picnic  meal.  Some  day  that  man  hopes  to 
have  a  rough  shack  on  his  land ;  but  he  is  content  to  let 
his  lumber  season  for  an  unreasonable  length  of  time, 
for  he  is  loth  to  give  up  the  sleeping-bag  under  the  stars. 
That  lumber,  by  the  way,  came  from  a  near-by  rancher 
who  insists  on  supplying  his  neighbors  from  his  little 
sawmill,  at  a  price  two-thirds  that  offered  by  city 
dealers.  "If  I  should  contract  with  them,"  the  man 
said,  "there  would  be  nothing  left  for  my  neighbors. 
Then  I  never  did  charge  over  fourteen  dollars  a  thou 
sand  for  lumber,  and  it  is  too  late  to  begin  now." 

Eanchers  are  especially  eager  to  respond  to  the 
enticing  invitations  to  share  in  the  joys  of  the  out-of- 
doors  that  are  sent  broadcast  by  the  Forest  Service; 
they  camp  with  their  families  by  river  or  lake,  perhaps 
moving  on  after  a  few  days  to  another  desirable  spot, 
and  they  return  to  the  home  soil  really  refreshed.  "We 
must  go  away  to-morrow  to  our  ranch  two  hundred 
1$  273 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

miles  from  here, ' '  said  one  rural  camper  whose  wife  and 
children  were  with  him  about  the  campfire.  "  It  is  not 
easy  to  go  when  the  trout  are  biting  as  they  did  to-day ; 
we  caught  fifty  pounds  of  trout.  But  the  wheat  will  be 
ready  to  harvest  next  week.  Be  sure  we  're  coming  back 
next  year,  though ;  or  perhaps  we'll  go  somewhere  else, 
to  fish,  and  camp,  and  get  made  over  new. ' ' 

Everywhere  in  the  West  there  are  public  camp 
grounds,  provided  by  individuals  or  communities,  by  the 
state  or  by  the  Forest  Service.  Some  of  these  camps 
can  accommodate  scores ;  others  are  intended  but  for 
one  or  two  families.  It  is  possible  to  go  all  the  way 
from  San  Diego  to  the  Canada  line,  spending  every 
night  on  one  of  these  camp  grounds.  In  many  of  them 
rude  fireplaces  are  provided,  as  well  as  other  comforts. 
In  the  forest  camps  wood  may  be  gathered  freely,  and 
in  some  of  them  a  supply  of  cut  wood  is  always  available. 

'  *  Isn  't  it  wonderful  what  is  done  for  us  by  the  Forest 
Service  V '  a  camper  remarked.  ' l  We  have  feed  for  our 
horses,  as  well  as  fuel,  and  we  are  free  to  fish  in  the 
streams  and  hunt  in  the  mountains,  so  long  as  we  obey 
the  laws  of  the  state.  When  I  wanted  information  about 
the  camping  grounds  and  roads,  I  applied  at  the  office 
of  the  Forest  Supervisor,  and  was  given  a  map  and  full 
information.  If  necessary,  we  can  use  the  telephone 
line  established  for  fire  protection  purposes,  and  wher 
ever  we  go  we  find  cross-road  signs  and  trail  directions 
that  send  us  on  our  way." 

The  detail  maps  of  the  National  Forests  given  to  all 
who  ask  for  them  are  marvels  of  accuracy  and  detail. 
The  explanatory  legend  on  the  map  of  Washington's 
Wenatchee  Forest,  for  instance,  is  quite  inclusive:  it 
tells  of  the  location  of  ranger  stations  where  inf orma- 

274 


THE  JOY  OF  THE  OPEN  ROAD 

tion  can  be  secured;  of  lookout  stations  where  is  the 
widest  possible  view  of  the  surroundings;  of  wagon 
roads,  private  roads,  trails,  telephone  instruments,  pub 
lic  camping  grounds,  hotels,  schoolhouses,  cabins  and 
tool  boxes.  The  entire  map  is  conveniently  laid  off  in 
sections  one  inch  square.  Think  of  going  camping  with 
such  provision  for  comfort  and  safety,  and  in  a  region 
where  there  are  not  only  routes  for  the  automobile,  but 
practicable  trails  that  lead  to  wild  summits  and  hidden 
canyons  and  mountain  lakes  where  the  trout  bite  freely 
because  they  have  not  been  taught  by  a  horde  of  fisher 
men  that  it  is  not  wise  to  take  flies  that  look  tempting 
but  lead  only  to  the  sportsman's  creel. 

The  exclamation  of  the  rancher  who  thought  such 
provision  for  the  vacation-seeker  was  remarkable  was 
repeated  to  the  supervisor  of  one  of  the  forests.  "No, 
it  is  not  wonderful,"  he  said.  "These  forests  belong 
to  the  people.  It  is  our  business  to  tell  them  of  their 
property,  to  lure  them  to  their  heritage — not  only  to  the 
trail  or  the  camp,  but  to  the  site  for  cabin  or  more  pre 
tentious  houses  which  have  been  laid  out  on  the  shores 
of  the  lakes,  by  the  stream,  or  deep  in  the  forests.  The 
people  are  coming.  Let  them  come.  For  the  forests — • 
their  forests — are  calling  them ;  it  is  our  delight  to  be 
the  means  by  which  the  call  is  made  known. ' ' 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
ACROSS  WASHINGTON'S   INLAND  EMPIRE 

ES  than  a  century  ago  men  would  have  laughed 
at  the  idea  of  applying  to  the  valley  of  the 
Columbia  the  term  "Inland  Empire/'    There 
were  few  who  had  a  good  word  for  the  vast  area  that  has 
given  to  the  country  one  of  its  most  fertile  lands.    In 
1837  Thomas  J.  Farnham  wrote : 

Above  the  Columbia  there  is  little  worth-while  land. 
The  forests  are  so  heavy  and  so  matted  with  brambles 
as  to  require  the  arm  of  a  Hercules  to  clear  a  farm 
of  one  hundred  acres  in  an  ordinary  lifetime ;  and  the 
mass  of  timber  is  so  great  that  an  attempt  to  subdue 
it  by  girdling  would  result  in  the  production  of  another 
forest  before  the  ground  could  be  disincumbered  of 
what  was  thus  killed. 

Six  years  later  United  States  Senator  McDuffie  de 
clared  that  he  would  not  give  a  pinch  of  snuff  for  the 
whole  Oregon  country,  of  which  the  present  state  of 
Washington  was  a  large  part.  Even  as  late  as  1865 
Captain  John  Mullan,  who  wished  to  encourage  emi 
gration  to  the  valley  of  the  Columbia,  found  it  neces 
sary  to  write : 

Though  it  has  pleased  many  persons,  for  reasons 
which  I  am  not  charitable  enough  to  think  were  even 
satisfactory  to  themselves,  to  term  the  great  plain  of 
the  Columbia  Eiver  an  immense  desert,  I  am  still  san 
guine  to  believe  that  in  this  same  plain  or  so-called 
desert  we  shall  find  as  rich  a  wealth  as  the  desert  of 
Colorado  is  now  sending  forth  to  the  commercial  world. 

276 


ACROSS    WASHINGTON'S    INLAND    EMPIRE 

This  desert,  and  the  river  flowing  through  it,  has  been 
favorably  compared  to  the  Nile,  the  enriching  influence 
of  which  has  made  Egypt  the  granary  of  the  East  since 
the  earliest  period  of  men. 

It  may  be  true  that  there  is  much  waste  land  in  the 
valley  of  the  Columbia,  but  it  is  also  true  that  in  the 
valley  of  the  Columbia  and  its  tributaries  are  some  of 
the  country's  most  productive  orchard  lands  and  grain 
fields.  There  are  valleys  of  almost  boundless  fertility, 
like  the  Yakima,  the  Wenatchee  and  the  Walla  Walla, 
where  fortunes  are  made  in  raising  fruit,  though  these 
were  barren  slopes  until  irrigation  brought  to  them  the 
transforming  waters ;  there  is  the  great  wheat  plateau 
of  the  Big  Bend  country,  where  the  Columbia  changes 
its  majestic  course ;  there  are  the  Okanogan  Highlands, 
where  Indian  lands  have  been  thrown  open  to  settle 
ment  in  comparatively  recent  years,  where  fruits  are 
abundant  and  cattle  thrive  wonderfully ;  and  there  are 
a  dozen  other  regions  which  unmistakably  give  the 
lie  to  the  doleful  prophecies  of  the  pessimists  of 
past  generations. 

Of  the  four  great  roads  that  go  to  these  spots  of 
fertility  and  beauty,  perhaps  first  place  should  be  given 
to  the  Sunset  Highway  that  leads  out  of  Seattle,  over 
the  Cascade  Mountains,  and  on  to  Spokane,  by  rushing 
rivers  and  sky-blue  lakes,  within  sight  of  great  cataracts 
and  across  dry  coulees — the  beds  of  water  courses  that 
have  long  since  disappeared,  and  through  miles  of 
orchards  whose  trees  provide  the  fruit  that  is  to  give 
loads  to  the  scores  of  refrigerator  cars  to  be  seen,  at 
any  time  during  the  long  season,  waiting  on  the  rail 
way  sidings  in  towns  that  may  not  boast  as  many  houses 
as  there  are  cars.  And  this  in  a  country  of  which,  in 

277 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

1837,  a  settler  said,  "It  is  probably  not  worth  half  the 
money  and  time  that  will  be  spent  in  talking  about  it." 

A  humorist  must  have  had  something  to  do  with 
marking  the  mile  posts  along  an  early  portion  of  the 
highway  to  the  country  of  which  these  disparaging 
words  were  spoken.  Between  Sammamish  Lake  and 
Falls  City  the  signs  on  the  posts  record  the  fact  that  the 
distance  to  Falls  City  is  7.9  miles,  6.9  miles,  5.9  miles — 
never,  by  any  chance,  is  the  measurement  in  even  miles. 
The  use  of  these  unusual  figures  might  be  more  easily 
understood  if  the  country  were  unattractive ;  then  the 
markings  would  help  to  distract  the  traveler's  mind. 
But  what  can  be  the  object  when  every  mile  of  the  coun 
try  is  so  attractive  that  there  is  hardly  time  to  look 
at  the  signs  or  to  realize  that  the  distance  to  the  next 
town  is  even  worth  measuring? 

As  if  the  rugged  beauty  of  the  rapidly  ascending 
country  is  not  sufficient,  the  Snoqualmie  Eiver  unex 
pectedly  calls  the  traveler  a  few  rods  from  the  road  to 
see  the  mad  plunge  of  its  waters  over  a  sheer  cliff  268 
feet  to  the  abyss  below.  With  the  background  of  moun 
tain  and  the  surroundings  of  vivid  green,  the  foam  and 
mist  of  the  falls  are  most  alluring.  Fascinated,  the 
observer  does  not  find  it  easy  to  pass  on  to  the  Twin 
Falls  in  the  same  river,  only  a  few  miles  on  toward  the 
mountains.  The  rough  trail  that  leads  to  these  falls — 
one  of  them  a  tumbling  cascade,  the  other  a  true  fall — 
adds  to  the  pleasure  of  the  downward  climb  from  the 
highway  to  the  edge  of  the  stream  that  makes  its  waters 
perform  so  many  gymnastic  feats.  All  too  soon  will 
come  the  day  when  the  trail  will  yield  to  the  cement 
steps  that  will  be  demanded  by  luxury-loving  visitors, 
but  to-day  those  who  delight  to  go  where  improvement 

278 


Copyright,  1915,  by  Asahel  Curtis,  Seattle 

SNOQUALM1E    FALLS,    WASHINGTON 


ACROSS    WASHINGTON'S    INLAND    EMPIRE 

has  not  yet  been  made  on  Nature 's  provision  for  safety 
and  comfort  may  still  take  delight  in  these  upper 
plunges  of  the  Snoqualmie,  where  power  was  generated 
for  use  in  building  the  immense  fill  for  the  railroad 
on  the  heights  above  the  river,  one  of  the  greatest 
embankments  in  the  world. 

Beyond  Twin  Falls  is  a  thick  forest  where,  now  and 
again,  a  blackened  trunk  is  seen  among  the  trees — evi 
dence  that  long  ago  the  forest  was  destroyed  and  that 
Nature  has  managed  to  reclothe  the  land  left  naked. 
Yet  there  are  those  who  say  that  it  is  useless  to  expect 
lands  once  burned  over  or  cut  over  to  be  ready  again  for 
those  who  know  how  to  use  the  forests.  Naturally  the 
men  of  the  forests  have  a  different  vision. 

The  road  leads  on  to  Snoqualmie  Pass,  through 
cedars  and  Douglas  firs  whose  straight,  tall  trunks  make 
imperative  the  dropping  of  the  automobile  top,  that 
there  may  be  an  uninterrupted  look  up,  up,  up  to  the  tree 
tops,  and  then  to  the  blue  sky  above. 

Through  the  trees  Granite  Mountain  appears  and 
unlocks  the  tongue  of  the  Forest  Banger  in  the  machine. 
1  'Up  there  I  got  my  first  bear,"  he  began.  *  'Louis  and 
I  were  running  lines.  I  had  not  wanted  to  take  my  six- 
shooter  that  day,  but  Louis  had  insisted,  fortunately 
for  us  both.  We  suddenly  came  on  Bruin  eating 
blackberries.  Now  you  would  not  like  to  be  interrupted 
at  such  an  occupation.  Neither  did  the  bear.  He  was 
somewhat  peevish,  but  instead  of  climbing  higher,  as  a 
wounded  bear  usually  does,  he  cornered  toward  me 
down  the  mountain  side.  I  gave  him  another  shot,  and 
he  tried  to  go  for  me.  I  was  up  hill  from  him,  though, 
and  he  was  not  strong  enough  to  climb.  So  he  ambled 
slowly  down  the  hill.  For  half  a  mile  he  struggled. 

279 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

Then  he  fell  dead,  within  a  few  rods  of  the  camp.  A 
most  accommodating  bear,  if  he  was  peevish !  He  must 
have  known  that  we  did  not  want  the  task  of  carrying  his 
huge  body  down  the  mountain  side  to  the  camp." 

Just  below  the  scene  of  the  bear  adventure  Denny 
Creek  Camp  Ground  makes  the  traveler  wish  to  antici 
pate  the  evening  that  he  may  roll  up  in  his  sleeping-bag 
on  the  banks  of  Denny  Creek,  in  the  amphitheater  made 
by  the  towering  mountains,  from  one  of  which  passen 
gers  on  the  train  of  the  Chicago,  Milwaukee  and  St. 
Paul  Eailroad  can  look  down,  just  before  they  enter 
from  the  west  the  tunnel  at  Snoqualmie  Summit.  Be 
tween  Snoqualmie  Pass  and  Blewitt  Pass  lie  many 
miles  of  delightful  road  through  the  towering  forests, 
by  the  side  of  majestic  Keechelus  Lake,  and  within  sight 
of  Kachess  and  Cle  Elum  lakes.  The  side  road  that 
leads  over  Blewitt  is  far  from  being  the  almost  perfect 
series  of  easy  spirals  that  led  to  Snoqualmie  Summit, 
but  the  rugged  surroundings  of  the  more  easterly  and 
higher  pass  make  the  greater  difficulties  of  this  spot, 
famous  since  the  days  of  the  gold-seekers,  seem  well 
worth  while.  A  few  miles  from  the  pass,  within  sight 
of  the  road,  a  quartz  wheel,  driven  by  water  power,  is 
silent,  useless.  "I  can't  get  no  one  to  help  me,"  said 
the  proprietor,  a  typical  old-time  miner,  as  his  form, 
bent  from  bearing  pick  and  shovel,  disappeared  in  the 
forest  by  the  roadside. 

It  is  not  long  until  the  road  passes  from  the  moun 
tain  into  Wenatchee  Valley,  famous  for  its  apples,  on 
to  the  junction  of  the  river  that  enriches  the  valley  with 
the  Columbia,  sweeping  down  from  the  north. 

Both  sides  of  the  Columbia  are  so  attractive  that  it 
is  difficult  to  choose  whether  to  go  north  by  the  left  bank 

280 


1 


ON    LAKE    KECHEELUS,    WASHINGTON 


' 


:*-iii-':         * 


IN    IAMAN    PASS,    LAKE    CHELAN,    WASHINGTON 


ACROSS     WASHINGTON'S    INLAND     EMPIRE 

or  the  right  bank.  The  best  way  to  settle  the  difficulty 
is  to  take  both  roads  in  turn  and  so  have  the  better 
opportunity  of  studying  the  varied  cliffs  that  border  the 
stream  all  the  way  from  Wenatchee  to  the  vicinity  of 
Lake  Chelan.  One  advantage  of  choosing  the  road  on 
the  right  bank  for  the  trip  up-stream  is  the  necessity 
of  crossing  the  little  Orondo  ferry  that  swings  far  down 
the  river  with  the  strong  current,  then  struggles  back  to 
the  appointed  landing  place  in  unexpected  recovery. 

From  the  river  the  road  at  last  turns  into  the  hills, 
and  rapidly  ascends  by  means  of  a  series  of  switch 
backs  from  which  there  are  distant  views  of  the  Colum 
bia,  rushing  on  to  the  sea  as>  in  the  days  when  Lewis 
and  Clark  and  their  pioneering  successors  eagerly 
fought  their  way  past  these  strange  rock  formations. 

A  few  miles  of  the  uplands  leads  to  the  spot  where 
wonderful  Chelan  Lake  comes  to  view  in  sudden,  sur 
prising  splendor.  For  fifty  miles  this  highland  lake 
stretches  its  sinuous  course,  first  along  the  low-lying 
hills  where  the  Chelan  apples  grow,  then  back  into  the 
mountains  of  Chelan  Forest,  which  rise  in  terraces  from 
three  to  eight  or  nine  thousand  feet  above  the  water. 
All  the  way  from  Chelan  Village  to  Stehekin  the 
steamer  cleaves  the  waters  for  passengers  who  exclaim 
until  they  have  no  words  left,  who  look  in  amazement 
at  the  waters  beneath,  at  the  heights  above,  at  the  clouds 
in  the  blue  heavens.  They  think  of  the  Indians  who 
declare  that  once  there  was  a  plain  where  is  now  the 
lake,  and  that  a  great  serpent  came  to  destroy  their 
peace  of  mind  and  kill  the  game  on  which  they  lived. 
In  response  to  their  prayer  the  Great  Spirit  killed  the 
serpent,  and  raised  mountains  about  his  dead  body, 

281 


SEEING  THE  FAR   WEST 

and  covered  him  over  with  water — the  waters  of  ser 
pent-like  Chelan.  In  some  places  the  lake  is  but  a 
mile  wide;  in  others  it  is  three  or  four  miles  broad. 
Sometimes  the  surrounding  mountains  seem  to  make 
an  end  to  it ;  then  it  turns  and  again  stretches  far  away. 
Finally  the  mountain  walls  rise  almost  like  precipices 
five  and  even  six  thousand  feet  above  the  water.  Down 
through  clefts  in  the  mountains  come  streams  like  Bail- 
road  Creek,  which  descends  six  thousand  feet  in  twenty 
miles.  Above  the  tributary  canyons  is  wild  mountain 
country  where  snows  abide,  where  glaciers  send  down 
their  icy  waters  to  the  lake,  where  the  winding,  climbing 
trail  lures  to  wild  adventure. 

Lake  Chelan  is  by  no  means  the  last  of  the  wonders 
approached  by  the  Sunset  Highway.  There  are  still 
valleys  and  rivers,  forests  and  cascades.  And  there 
are  the  coulees,  first  Moses  Coulee,  then  the  greater 
Grand  Coulee,  thought  by  many  to  have  been  the  bed 
of  the  Columbia  when  that  stream,  temporarily  filled 
up  at  the  Great  Bend,  was  forced  to  cut  gorges  across 
the  lava  plateau  to  the  south.  Alkali  lakes  are  here 
and  there  in  the  depths  of  the  chasm,  whose  lava  walls 
rise  almost  vertically  from  four  hundred  to  six  hun 
dred  feet. 

And  all  about  are  the  wheat  lands  where  wonderful 
crops  are  raised,  where  still  greater  crops  will  appear 
when  the  stupendous  plans  for  the  irrigation  of  this 
section  are  completely  carried  out. 

One  hundred  miles  beyond  Grand  Coulee  is  Spokane, 
the  Queen  City  of  the  Inland  Empire,  which  really  dates 
back  only  to  1881,  though  in  1872  the  discovery  of  the 
Cceur  d'Alene  mines  gave  it  a  sort  of  start.  As  far 

282 


ACROSS    WASHINGTON'S    INLAND    EMPIRE 

back  as  1812  it  was  the  site  of  Spokane  House,  a  fur- 
trading  post  of  the  Northwest  Company.  To-day  the 
visitor  needs  only  to  follow  the  High  Drive  and  the 
Kim  Drive,  parts  of  Spokane's  beautiful  park  system, 
to  realize  what  a  change  has  come  to  the  city  built  about 
Spokane  Falls,  and  why  it  will  not  be  surprising  to  see, 
before  the  century  is  old,  half  a  million  people  liv 
ing  here  at  this  western  gateway  to  Washington's 
Sunset  Highway. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

WESTERN  HIGHWAYS 

THERE  is  a  big  surprise  in  store  for  the  motorist 
who  has  delayed  taking  a  road  tour  through  the 
region  from  the  Eocky  Mountains  to  the  Pacific 
Coast  because  he  has  had  the  idea  that  there  are  few 
good  roads,  there.  The  fact  is  that  the  West  is  grid- 
ironed  with  fine  roads.  There  are  many  stretches  of 
bad  road,  but  it  is  usually  possible  to  avoid  these.  And 
the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the  spirited  campaign 
for  good  roads  will  result  in  highways  all  the  way  from 
the  mountains  to  the  sea  as  remarkable  for  their  sur 
face  as  for  their  scenery. 

Ultimately  there  will  be  as  many  of  these  practicable 
routes  as  there  are  transcontinental  railroads.  All  the 
way  from  the  Canadian  line  to  the  Mexican  border 
these  roads  have  been  marked,  and  sections  of  them 
have  been  improved.  Among  others  there  are  the  Dixie 
Highway,  the  National  Old  Trails  Eoad,  the  Pike's 
Peak  Ocean-to-Ocean  Highway,  and  the  Lincoln  High 
way.  Then  there  are  north  and  south  roads  innumer 
able,  some  of  them  among  the  best  specimens  of  highway 
construction  to  be  found  anywhere — for  instance,  the 
first  link  in  the  Park-to-Park  Highway,  opened  in  the 
summer  of  1919,  which  connects  Glacier  Park  and  Yel 
lowstone  Park;  and  the  second  link,  opened  the  same 
year,  from  Yellowstone  Park  to  Eocky  Mountain  Park. 
Those  who  have  the  privilege  of  traveling  over  the  three 
hundred  and  eighty  miles  between  Montana's  mountain 
wonderland  and  the  chief  of  Wyoming's  many  glories, 
following  the  main  range  of  the  Eocky  Mountains,  will 

284 


THE    TRUCKEE    RIVER    ON    THE    LINCOLN    HIGHWAY,    NEAR 
LAKE    TAHOE,    CALIFORNIA 


PINE    CANYON    ON    THE    SUNSET   HIGHWAY,    WASHINGTON 


PHANTOM    CANYON    HIGHWAY,    CAXON    CITY,    COLORADO 


ROOSEVELT    ROAD,    ARIZONA 


WESTERN   HIGHWAYS 

wait  eagerly  for  the  announcement  of  the  completion  of 
other  links  in  this  tremendous  enterprise  connecting  all 
the  National  Parks  of  the  mountain  region. 

Then  there  is  the  Pacific  Highway,  all  the  way  from 
San  Diego  to  the  Canada  line,  much  of  this  a  boulevard, 
while  all  of  it  is  practicable ;  the  Olympic  Highway,  and 
the  Sunset  Highway.  There  is  the  Cody  Eoad,  Wyom 
ing 's  stately  entrance  to  Yellowstone  Park.  There  is 
El  Camino  Sierra,  on  the  coastwise  side  of  the  Sierras, 
from  Owens  Lake,  California,  to  Eeno,  Nevada.  There 
is  the  Tioga  Eoad  from  Mono  Lake,  "the  Dead  Sea 
of  the  West,"  across  the  Sierra  Nevada  Mountains  by 
Tioga  Pass  at  an  elevation  of  9941  feet,  through  the 
remarkable  region  between  the  Yosemite  and  the  Tuo- 
lumne  to  a  junction  with  the  Oak  Flat  Eoad  that  leads 
out  of  the  Yosemite  and  along  the  cliffs  far  above  the 
swirling  waters  of  the  Merced.  There  is  the  Eoose- 
velt  Dam  Eoad  in  Arizona  and  the  tremendously  impres 
sive  road  from  Oregon  into  the  redwood  forests  of 
Northwestern  California.  There  are  the  marvelous 
roads  centering  at  Denver  and  Ogden,  and  Carson  City 
and  Spokane  and  Boise  City.  There  are  more  of  these 
than  can  be  named  in  a  brief  chapter,  and  there  will 
be  many  more  before  this  volume  is  a  year  old. 

Every  one  of  the  states  of  the  Far  West  is  in  the 
midst  of  a  campaign  of  road-building.  The  Colorado 
Highway  Map  shows  about  seven  thousand  miles  of 
roads,  all  good  for  automobile  travel,  while  the  machine 
can  cover  almost  all  of  the  forty-two  thousand  miles 
in  the  state. 

Wyoming  is  doing  her  best  to  care  for  the  section  of 
the  Lincoln  Highway  within  her  bounds,  as  well  as  to 
improve  other  roads. 

285 


SEEING   THE   FAR   WEST 

During  1919  Montana  planned  to  spend  on  new  roads 
nearly  seven  million  dollars  and  to  increase  the  appro 
priation  from  year  to  year. 

Idaho  is  developing  the  Idaho-Montana  Highway, 
and  is  caring  for  other  roads  that  will  open  to  automo 
bile  travel  thousands  of  square  miles  of  territory  that 
have  been  almost  inaccessible. 

For  fifteen  years  Washington  has  had  a  highway 
policy,  and  her  program  is  extensive.  In  addition  to 
the  Pacific,  Olympic  and  Sunset  Highways,  the  Highway 
Commission  is  working  on  the  McClellan  Pass  High 
way,  the  National  Park  Highway,  the  Inland  Empire 
Highway,  and  the  Central  Washington  Highway. 

Oregon  has  constructed  many  hundred  miles  of  per 
fect  roads,  but  her  program  is  so  large  that  the  things 
already  accomplished  seem  as  nothing,  though  they 
include  such  marvels  as  the  Columbia  Eiver  High 
way  and  the  roads  along  John  Day  Eiver  and  the 
Umpqua  Eiver. 

In  California,  where  the  highway  system  is  already 
a  wonder,  large  appropriations  for  new  work  have  been 
made.  It  is  the  purpose  to  give  to  every  county  in  the 
state  highways  that  will  be  a  source  of  constant  pleas 
ure  to  all  who  use  them.  Among  other  projects 
destined  to  be  completed  soon  is  the  new  road,  to  be 
open  all  the  year,  from  the  San  Joaquin  Valley  into  the 
Yosemite  Valley. 

In  Arizona,  in  addition  to  the  Eoosevelt  Dam  High 
way,  there  is  the  Santa  Fe  Highway — the  name  given  in 
this  state  to  the  Old  Trails  Highway — which  crosses 
the  Petrified  Forest  and  the  Painted  Desert,  and  passes 
near  the  Cliff  Dwellings  of  Walnut  Canyon  and  the  San 

286 


WESTERN    HIGHWAYS 

Francisco  Peaks;  the  Borderland  Highway,  and  the 
Grand  Canyon-Nogales  Highway. 

New  Mexico's  usable  roads  connect  many  of  the 
points  most  worth  while,  and  in  a  few  years  the  high 
ways  will  lead  the  motorist  to  all  sections  of  the  state. 

Already  Utah  has  made  practicable  sections  of  the 
Lincoln  Highway  across  Great  Salt  Lake  Desert  and 
through  a  number  of  canyons  where  travel  has  been 
difficult.  These  are  the  final  bits  necessary  to  put  the 
entire  Highway  across  the  state  in  splendid  condition 
for  travel.  Then  comes  the  north-and-south  Arrowhead 
Trail,  with  its  branches  leading  to  the  Grand  Canyon 
and  eastward  to  the  Natural  Bridges,  connecting  with 
the  road  to  Mesa  Verde  Park  in  Colorado. 

Nevada  has  parts  of  the  Lincoln  Highway  in  good 
condition,  as  well  as  a  number  of  other  roads  of  real 
scenic  grandeur,  especially  about  Carson  City  and  Lake 
Tahoe.  But  what  has  been  done  is  looked  on  only  as 
a  beginning. 

Those  who  plan  to  take  journeys  to  any  of  these 
states  may  wish  to  write  to  the  State  Highway  Com 
missioners  at  the  capital  city,  asking  for  a  state  road 
map  and  for  the  report  of  work  already  accomplished 
and  other  work  planned  for  the  immediate  future. 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Absaroka  Range,  164 

Acoma,  New  Mexico,  pueblo  of,  145 

Adamana,  Arizona,  123 

Adams,  R.  D.,  103 

Alaraeda  Drive,  231 

Albuquerque,  New  Mexico,  144 

Alder  Gulch,  Montana,  166 

Alkali,  conquering  in  Colorado,  57 

Anaconda,  Montana,  167 

Anacortes,  Washington,  268 

Anaho  Island,  196 

Anderson  Range,  Washington,  264 

Angel's    Landing,     Zion    Canyon, 

Utah,  102 

American  Fork,  Utah,  93 
American  River,  California,  199 
Ames,  Oliver  and  Oakes,  78 
Apache  Forest,  124 
Apache  Trail,  Arizona,  135 
Arden,  Forest  of,  216 
Arkansas  River,  19,  111 
Arrowroot  Dam,  Idaho,  184 
Aspen  Ridge,  Wyoming,  84 
Astoria,  Oregon,  181,  186 

Bad  Lands,  Wyoming,  76 
Bandelier  National  Monument,  142 
Bandits  in  California,  221 
Bath,  a  Japanese,  213 
Beacon  Rock,  Oregon,  260 
Beale,  General  Edward  F.,  155 
Bear,  adventure  with,  257,  279 
Beet  sugar  country,  Utah,  94 
Bend,  Oregon,  245,  248,  250,  254 
Bergen  Park,  Colorado,  44 
Bidwell,  John,  193,  199 
Bierstadt,  Mount,  Colorado,  44 
Big  Horn  River,  Montana,  161 


Big  Thompson  Canyon,  Colorado, 

37,46 

Big  Trees,  220,  221,  224,  231,  236 
Billings,  Montana,  158,  164 
Bishop,  Isabella  Bird,  47 
Bisnaga  Cactus,  153 
Black  Canyon  of  the  Gunnison,  70 
Blewitt  Pass,  Washington,  280 
Boise,  Idaho,  181,  187 
Bonita,  Pueblo,  143 
Bonneville,  Captain,  21,  87,  181 
Bonneville,  Lake,  191 
Botanical  Laboratory,  137 
Boulder,  Colorado,  36 
Bowles,  Samuel,  42,  47,  67,  233 
Bozeman,  Montana,  159 
Bridge  of  the  Gods,  259 
Bridger,  Fort,  76,  80,  85 
Bridger,  James,  80 
Bright  Angel  Trail,  109 
Brontosaurus,  bones  of,  found,  74 
Bryce,  James,  270 
Buchanan,  President,  85 
Buffalo:     in  the  Yellowstone,  158; 

in  Milk  River,  172;  at  Great  Falls, 

174 
Buffalo  BUI,  43 

Cable  Mountain,  Utah,  102 

Cable  Railway,  Zion  Canyon,  Utah, 

102 
California    Gulch,    Colorado,    gold 

discovery  in,  32 
California,  Gulf  of,  82 
California,  University  of,  232 
Camels  in  the  desert,  155 
Camp  grounds,  public,  206,  274,  280 
Camping  out,  272 

291 


INDEX 


Cafion  City,  Colorado,  67 
Canyon  Diablo,  126 
Capulin  National  Monument,  140 
Carnegie  Museum  at  Pittsburgh,  89 
Caroline  Natural  Bridge,  Utah,  53 
Carson,  Kit,  71,  156 
Carson  Sink,  Nevada,  196 
Cascade  Mountains,  240 
Catalina  Island,  227 
Catalina  Mountain,  Arizona,  136 
Catlin,  George,  Indian  artist,  161 
Cave  of  the  Winds,  Colorado,  26 
Cedar  Canyon,  Utah,  103 
Cedar  City,  Utah,  94,  102 
Central  City,  Colorado,  35 
Chaco  Canyon  National  Monument, 

143 

Chaco  Indians,  143 
Chalicotheres,  skeleton  of,  found,  73 
Channel  Islands,  227 
Chelan  Lake,  252,  281 
Chelly,  Canyon  de,  122 
Cheyenne  Canyon,  27 
Cheyenne  Mountain,  20,  28 
Cheyenne,  Wyoming,  77 
Chinese  market  gardeners,  212 
Clark  Crows,  story  of,  219 
Clark,  General  William,  162 
Cliff  dwellings,  49,  54,  98,  122,  143 
Cloud  formations,  267 
Coast  Range,  240 

Coconino  National  Forest,  109,  132 
Cody,  William  F.,  43 
Cody  Road,  Montana,  178 
Coeur  d'Alene,  Lake,  169 
Collegiate  Range,  Colorado,  68 
Coloma,  California,  199 
Colorado  City,  Colorado,  25 
Colorado  Cliff  Dwellers'  Asso.,  49 
Colorado  National  Monument,  69 
Colorado  River,  111,  115,  130 
Colorado  Springs,  Colorado,  21,  22, 

24,  25,  33 
292 


Columbia  Gorge,  Oregon,  255 

Columbia  River,  192,  276,  280,  282 

Como  Bluff,  Wyoming,  73 

Copper  in  Montana,  168,  175 

Coronado  Beach,  California,  202 

Coulees,  277,  282 

"  Coulter's  Hell,"  176 

Cowlitz  Prairie,  Oregon,  263 

Crane's  Prairie,  Oregon,  245 

Crater  Lake,  241 

Crater  Mound,  Arizona,  125 

Creede,  Colorado,  71 

Crescent  Lake,  Washington,  265 

Crinkle,  Nym,  22 

Cripple  Creek,  Colorado,  68 

Cucamonga  Valley,  217 

Cumbres  Pass,  Colorado,  71 

Custer,  General,  162 

Cuyamaca  Mountains,  204,  208 

Cuyamaca,  Spanish  grant,  208 

Davis,  Jefferson,  156;  Mrs.  Jeffer 
son,  166 

Dixie  National  Forest,  94 

Diablo,  Canyon,  126 

Dinosaur,  bones  of,  found,  73, 74, 89 

Dinosaur  National  Monument,  89 

Dinosaur  Peak,  89 

Death  Valley,  California,  152 

Deer  hunting,  250 

Deer  in  the  forest,  236 

Deer  Lodge  Valley,  Montana,  159 

Dellenbaugh,  Frederick  S.,  91 

Denny  Creek  Camp  Ground,  Wash 
ington,  280 

Denver,  17,  22,  24,  35,  39,  40,  42,  66 

Denver,  Colorado  Canyon  andPacific 
Railroad,  dream  of,  88 

Denver  Mountain  Park,  43 

Descanso,  California,  204 

Deschutes  River,  254 

Desert  view,  California,  207 

Desolation  Valley,  198 


INDEX 


Deserts:  Red,  81;  Escalante,  94; 
Painted,  126;  Great  American, 
151;  Colorado,  152, 154;  Mohave, 
152,  154;  Death  Valley,  152,  154, 
156 

Eagle  Canyon,  Colorado,  69 

Eagle  Creek  Canyon,  Oregon,  257 ' 

Echo  Canyon,  Utah,  83 

Edwin  Natural  Bridge,  Utah,  52 

El  Cajon  Pass,  152 

El  Camino  Real,  214,  227 

El  Capitan,  Yosemite,  225 

Electric  Peak,  Montana,  178 

Elk,  265 

Elk  Mountain,  81 

El  Morro  National  Monument,  147 

Elowah  Falls,  Oregon,  259 

Elwha  River,  Washington,  264 

Engineering  triumphs,  41,  58,  66, 

68, 69,  71, 72,  78, 84, 119, 172, 254 
Emigrant  Trail  Marker,  198 
Emigrants,  stories  of,  80,  183,  184, 

193 

Emigration  Canyon,  Utah,  85 
Erosion  in  Wyoming,  82 
Escalante  Desert,  94 
Estes  Park,  47 
Ensign  Peak,  Utah,  190 
Everett,  Washington,  269 
Everts,  Thomas  C.,  178 

Fair  Play,  Colorado,  35 

Fallen  Leaf  Lake,  California,  197 

Farnham,  Thomas,  276 

Ferry  at  Orondo,  Washington,  281 

Fish  Cut,  Wyoming,  76 

Fire,  forest,  Tom  Tourist  and  the, 

206 

Flagstaff,  Arizona,  131,  132 
Flathead  Indian  Reservation,  159 
Fossil,  Wyoming,  76 
Fossils,  at  Dinosaur  Peak,  89 


Forests  for  the  people,  275 
Fort  Benton,  Montana,  163,  174 
Fort  Collins,  Colorado,  58 
Fort  Ellis,  Montana,  161 
Fort  Hall,  Idaho,  181 
Fort  Hall  Indian  Reservation,  182 
Fort  Keogh,  Montana,  159 
Fountain  Creek,  Colorado,  22 
Fremont,  John  C.,  30,  71,  181 
Freighters:  in  Colorado,  78;  in  Cali 
fornia,  198 

Fresno,  California,  219 
Funeral  Range,  152 

Gallap,  New  Mexico,  147 

Gallatin  Valley,  Montana,  159 

Gallinas,  Rio,  141 

Garden  of  Allah,  121 

Garden  of  the  Gods,  Colorado,  25 

General  Grant  Park,  221 

General  Sherman  Tree,  220 

Georgetown  Loop,  Colorado,  67 

Gila  River,  134 

Glacier  National  Park,  174 

Glacier  Point,  Yosemite,  226 

Glenbrook,  Nevada,  197 

Glendive,  Montana,  158 

Glenwood  Springs,  Colorado,  69 

Globe,  Arizona,  135 

Gold:  in  Colorado,  32;  in  Montana, 
166,  167;  in  Idaho,  188;  in  Cali 
fornia,  199 

Gold  miner  lost  in  Milk  River,  172 

Golden,  Colorado,  25,  43  < 

Gran  Quivira  National  Monument, 
148 

Grand  Canyon  of  Colorado,  82,  94, 
105,  132 

Grand  Coulee,  Washington,  282 

Grand  Junction,  Colorado,  59 

Grand  River,  19 

Grand  Valley,  Colorado,  69 

Granite  Mountain,  Washington,  279 
293 


INDEX 


Gray's  Peak,  Colorado,  42,  67 
Great  American  Desert,  151 
Great  Northern  Railroad,  171 
Great  Salt  Lake,  93,  191 
Great  White  Throne,  Zion  Canyon, 

Utah,  101 

Greeley,  Colorado,  40 
Greeley,  Horace,  36,  40,  47,  51 
Green  River,  Wyoming,  76,  83,  111 
Greenville,  Wyoming,  79 
Gulf  of  California,  115 
Gull,  why  sacred  in  Utah,  190 
Gunnison,  Black  Canyon  of  the,  70 

Harriman,  Edward,  120,  254 

Helper,  Utah,  89 

Helena,  Montana,  160,  167,  168 

Hell  Gate  Canyon,  165,  168 

Henry's  Lake,  Idaho,  182 

Hetch  Hetchy  Valley,   California, 
224 

Hichens,  Robert,  121 

Highways:  Pike's  Peak,  Ocean  to 
Ocean,  22,  89, 140;  Crystal  Park, 
27 ;  Cheyenne  to  Denver,  39 ;  Lariat 
Trail,  43;  Mt.  Evans,  44;  Rocky 
Mountain  Park,  46;  Park  to  Park, 
48,  284;  Mesa  Verde,  49;  Monte- 
zuma,  52;  Sky  Line  Drive,  67; 
Phantom  Canyon,  68;  Lincoln, 
77,  86,  193,  195,  197;  Arrowhead 
Trail,  92;  National  Old  Trails, 
125,  132;  Grand  Canyon,  132; 
Apache  Trail,  135;  Mullan  Road, 
165;  Cody  Road,  178;  Dixie,  189; 
Inland  Empire,  '189;  Imperial, 
203,  204;  El  Camino  Real,  214, 
227;  Santiago  Canyon,  216;  Mag 
nolia  Drive,  217;  Seventeen-mile 
drive,  230;  Alameda  Drive,  231; 
Columbia  River,  256;  Olympic, 
263, 266;  Sunset,  277;  Chapter  on, 
284 
294 


Holliday,  Ben,  stagedriver,  77 

Hollywood,  California,  214 

Holy  Cross,  Mount  of  the,  Colorado, 

69 

Hood  River,  Oregon,  258 
Hood's  Canal,  Washington,  263 
Hornaday,  William  T.,  151,  153 
Hospitality:    in  Utah,  96;  in  Cali 
fornia,  228 

Hudson  Bay  Company,  256,  260 
Hulburd  Grove,  California,  204 
Humboldt  Lake,  Utah,  195 
Humboldt  River,  Utah,  195 
Hunt,  Wilson  Price,  181,  186 
Huntingdon  Lake,  California,  224 
Hurricane  Fault,  Utah,  95,  103 

Imperial  Valley,  California,  206,  207 

Indian  irrigation,  48,  50,  126,!  134 

Indian  legends,  122,  132,  204,  208, 
225,  259,  281 

Indians:  and  the  Garden  of  the 
Gods,  26;  Utes  kill  Meeker,  39; 
at  Glenwood  Springs,  69;  at  Medi 
cine  Bow,  79;  on  the  Mono  Trail, 
223;  Mohave,  112;  Navajo,  126, 
132;  Hopi,  130;  Havasupai,  132; 
Apache,  135;  Papago,  137;  Chaco, 
143;  Sioux,  161,  162,  170;  Sitting 
Bull,  162;  Crow,  164,  170,  176; 
Blackfeet,  174;  Bannock,  176; 
Cayuse,  189;  Klamath  and  Mo- 
doc,  242;  Siwash,  266 

Inspiration  Point,  Yosemite,  225 

Iron  deposits  in  Utah,  95 

Iron  Springs,  Utah,  95 

Irrigation:  in  Colorado,  36,  38,  48, 
58;  in  Arizona,  134;  in  Montana, 
158, 172;  in  Idaho,  184;  in  Oregon, 
248 

Irving,  Washington,  22,  56,  87,  193 

Isleta  pueblo,  144 

Ives,  Lieutenant,  112 


INDEX 


Jackson,  Helen  Hunt,  27,  33,  35,  47 

Jackson's  Hole,  Wyoming,  178 

James,  Edwin  F.,  at  Pike's  Peak,  21 

James'  Peak,  21 

Japanese  outdoor  bath,  213 

Jefferson,  Thomas,  171 

John  Muir  Trail,  223 

Johnston,  W.  R.,  126 

Jordan  Valley,  Utah,  92 

Juan  de  Fuca,  Strait  of,  268 

Julesburg,  Colorado,  77 

Kearney  Park,  Fresno,  220 
Kent,  William,  234 
King's  Canyon  Grade,  197 
King's  River  Canyon,   California. 

222 

Klamath  Indian  Reservation,  241 
Klamath  Lake,  241 

Laguna,  New  Mexico,  pueblo  of,  145 
Laguna  Mountains,  California,  203 
Lajeunesse,  Seminoe,  80 
Lahontan,  Lake,  196 
La  Junta,  Colorado,  19 
Lake  Chelan,  281 
Lake  City,  Colorado,  70 
Lancaster,  Samuel  C.,  256 
Land  Grant,  Las  Animas,  31 
Laramie,  Fort,  40,  79,  80 
La  Ramie,  Jacques,  79 
Laramie  Range,  Wyoming,  78 
Las  Animas,  Land  Grant,  31 
Las  Vegas,  New  Mexico,  140 
Lassen  Peak,  235,  241 
Lava  flows,  245,  254 
La  Verkin  Forks,  Utah,  95 
Lead  carbonates,  33 
Leadville,  Colorado,  22,  32,  33,  68 
Le  Conte,  Joseph,  219 
Lee,  Jason,  263 

Legends  of  Indians,  122,  132,  204, 
208,  225,  259,  281 


Lehi,  Utah,  93 

Leland  Stanford  University,  231 
Lemnon,  Mount,  Arizona,  136 
Lewis  and  Clark,  164,  171,  260 
Lewiston,  Idaho,  181,  188 
Lily,  Ben,  hunter,  124 
Little  Colorado  River,  126 
Lodore  Canyon,  90 
Long,  Horace  J.,  52 
Long,  Major  S.  H.,  47 
Long's  Peak,  Colorado,  42,  66 
Lookout  Mountain,  Colorado,  43 
Lookout  from  mountain  top,  252 
Lookout  on  Paulina  Summit,  247 
Los  Angeles,  California,  210 
Los  Gatos  River,  231 
Lost  in  Yellowstone  Park,  178 
Loveland,  Colorado,  46 
Lowe  Observatory,  118 
Lucin  Cut-off,  193 
Lund,  Utah,  92,  94 

McCloud  River,  236,  238 
MacDougall,  D.  T.,  137,  150 
McDuffie,  Senator,  276 
McCarthy,  Fitz-James,  132 
Mack,  Colorado,  89 
Mancos,  Colorado,  48 
Manitou,  Colorado,  22,  25 
Manuelito,  Arizona,  122 
Manzano  National  Forest,  148 
Maps  of  the  National  Forests,  274 
Mariposa  Grove  of  Big  Trees,  224 
Marshall,   Edward,  gold  discovery 

of,  199 

Massive,  Mount,  Colorado,  68 
Maxwell  Land  Grant,  31,  139 
Mazama,  Mount,  241 
Medicine  Bow,  74,  79 
Meeker,  Colorado,  39 
Meeker,  Nathan  Cook,  36 
Merced,  California,  220 
Merced  Canyon,  California,  222 
295 


INDEX 


Mesa  Encantada,  New  Mexico,  146 
Mesa  Verde  National  Park,  Colo 
rado,  91,  104,  139 
Mesonyx,  bones  of,  found,  76 
Meteorite  Mountain,  Arizona,  125 
Metlaka  Falls,  Oregon,  259 
Metolius  River,  Oregon,  249 
Middle  Park,  Colorado,  45 
Miles  City,  Montana,  159,  162 
Milk  River,  Montana,  171 
Miller,  Joaquin,jl32,  242 
Mills,  Enos  A.,  45,  47,  66 
Minarets  Mountains,  223 
Missionary,  why  he  was  contented, 

129 

Missoula,  Montana,  168 
Missouri  River,  163,  171 
Modjeska,  Madame,  216 
Mohave  Indians,  112 
Mono  Pass,  California,  223 
Montana  National  Bison  Range,  159 
Monterey,  California,  230 
Montezuma  Castle,  National  Mon 
ument,  Arizona,  131 
Montezuma  National  Forest,  50 
Montrose,  Colorado,  69 
Monumental  Valley,  Utah,  104 
Mora  Canyon,  New  Mexico,  140 
Moro  Rock,  California,  221 
Mormons,  85,  93,  190 
Moscow,  Idaho,  189 
Moses  Coulee,  Washington,  282 
Mosquitoes  in  Montana,  173 
Moulton,  Louise  Chandler,  28 
Mount  Adams,  259 
Mount  Evans,  43,  44 
Mt.  Everts,  Yellowstone  Park,  178 
Mount  Hamilton  Observatory,  231 
Mount  Hood,  259 
Mt.  Jefferson,  Oregon,  248 
Mount  Rainier,  269 
Mount  St.  Helens,  259 
Mount  Shasta,  202,  235,  238 
296 


Mount  Whitney,  221,  270 
Mountain  lions,  escape  from,  237 
Muerto,  Canyon  del,  122 
Muir,  John,  107,  175,  219,  224,  226, 

268 
Muir  Woods  National  Monument, 

233 

Mukuntuweap  Canyon,  98 
Mule  guides  the  way  over  La  Veta 

Pass,  Colorado,  72 
Mullan,  Lieutenant  John,  165 
Multnomah  Falls,  Oregon,  260 

Names,  fantastic,  26,  83 

National  Forests:  Pike,  18,  65; 
Montezuma,  50;  Dixie,  94; 
Apache,  124;  Coconino,  109,  132; 
Manzano,  148;  Cabinet,  168; 
Targhee,  182;  El  Dorado,  197; 
Cleveland,  103,  216;  Angeles,  215, 
216;  Monterey,  229;  Shasta,  236; 
Deschutea,  240;  Oregon,  257; 
Olympic,  263;  Wenatchee,  274; 
Chelan,  281 

National  Monuments:  Rainbow 
Bridge,  55,  91;  Colorado,  69; 
Wheeler,  71;  Dinosaur,  89;  Petri 
fied  Forests,  123;  Montezuma 
Castle,  131;  Tonto,  136;  Capulin, 
140;  Bandelier,  142;  Chaco  Can 
yon,  143;  El  Morro,  147;  Gran 
Quivira,  148;  Papago  Saguaro, 
153;  Pinnacles,  230;  Muir  Woods, 
233 

National  Parks:  Rocky  Mountain, 
48;  Mesa  Verde,  48,  91;  Yellow 
stone,  87,  160,  164,  176;  Zion,  94; 
Glacier,  173-175;  Sequoia,  220; 
Yosemite,  221,  224;  General 
Grant,  221;  Crater  Lake,  241; 
Mount  Rainier,  270 

Natural  Bridge  National  Monu 
ment,  91 


INDEX 


Natural  Bridges  of  Utah,  51,  91 
Needles,  California,  111,  113,  133 
Newberry  Crater,  Oregon,  245 
Nisqually  Glacier,  270 
Nonnezosche  Natural  Bridge,  54 
North  Park,  Colorado,  45 
Nye,  Bill,  81 

Oakland,  California,  232 

Odell,  Lake,  Oregon,  243 

Ogden,  Utah,  85,  191 

Ogden  Canyon,  Utah,  192 

Ogden,  Peter  Skene,  235 

Oil  wells  in  orange  groves,  217 

Olympia,  Washington,  263 

Olympic  Mountains,  265 

Olympic  Peninsula,  262 

Oneonta  Falls,  Oregon,  259 

Oraibi,  Arizona,  130 

Oregon  Trail,  181 

Orondo  ferry,  281 

Otto,  John,  69 

Ouray,  Colorado,  71 

Ouray,  Mount,  68 

Overland  Route  to  California,  77 

Overland  Stage  Line,  77 

Pajaro  Valley,  California,  231 
Panamint  Mountains,  152 
Papago  Indians,  137 
Papago   Saguaro   National   Monu 
ment,  153 

Paradise  Valley,  270 
Parsons,  George  W.,  154 
Parunoweap  Canyon,  97 
Pasadena,  California,  215 
Paulina  Lake,  Oregon,  246 
Paulina  Peak,  view  from,  247 
Pend  Oreille  Lake,  169 
Petrified  Forests,  Arizona,  123 
Phantom  Curve,  Colorado,  72 
Phoenix,  Arizona,  131,  134,  154 
Pike  National  Forest,  18,  65 


Pike,  Zebulon  M.,  19,  111,  141 
Pike's  Peak,  17,  19,  20,  21,  24,  27, 

28,  32,  78 
Pilgrim  Creek  Nursery,  California, 

238 

Pillars  of  Hercules,  Oregon,  260 
Pine  Valley,  California,  206 
Pinnacles  National  Monument,  230 
Pitman  Falls,  California,  223 
Platte  River,  37 
Placerville,  California,  199 
Pocatello,  Idaho,  184,  193 
Pompey's  Pillar,  162 
Port  Angeles,  Washington,  268 
Port  Townsend,  Washington,  267, 

268 

Portland,  Oregon,  260 
Powell,  Major  J.  W.,  90,  109 
Pringle  Falls,  Oregon,  251 
Prophecies,  ambitious:   Pueblo,  30; 

Leadville,   34;   Denver,   39,   40; 

Sevier  Lake  Country,  94;  Oakland, 

California,   232;   San   Francisco, 

232;  Portland,  260 
Prophecies,  mistaken,  22,  34,  56,  86, 

276,  278 
Provo,  Utah,  93 
Pueblo,  Colorado,  20,  22,  30 
Pueblos:  Isleta,  144;  Languna,  145; 

Acoma,  145 
Puget  Sound,  263,  268 
Pyramid  Lake,  196 

Railroads:  Cripple  Creek  Short 
Line,  27;  Union  Pacific,  41,  76,  78, 
89;  Moffat  Road,  41;  Denver  and 
Rio  Grande,  59,  72,  88,  89;  South 
ern  Pacific,  82,  111,  118,  197,  236; 
Los  Angeles  and  Salt  Lake,  92, 152; 
Santa  F<§,  111,  115,  122,  138;  Cen 
tral  Pacific,  151,  187,  192,  201; 
Tonopah  and  Tidewater,  152; 
Northern  Pacific,  158,  162;  Great 
297 


INDEX 


Northern,  171;  Western  Pacific, 
194;  Chicago,  Milwaukee  and  St. 
Paul,  280 

Railroad  Creek,  Lake  Chelan,  282 

Rain  in  Utah,  92 

Rainbow  Bridge  National  Monu 
ment,  54,  91 

Rampart  Range,  22 

Raton,  New  Mexico,  138,  139 

Red  Buttes,  Wyoming,  79 

Red  Cliff,  Colorado,  69 

Red  Cloud  Mountain,  Colorado,  70 

Red  Desert,  Wyoming,  81 

Red  River,  19 

Redlands,  California,  217 

Redondo,  California,  211 

Reynolds  Yellowstone  Park  Expe 
dition,  162 

Riverside,  California,  217 

Rocky  Mountain  National  Park,  48 

Rocky  Mountain  Park,  46 

Rollins  Pass,  Colorado,  41 

Roosevelt  Dam,  136 

Roosevelt,  Theodore,  127,  134,  234 

Root,  F.  A.,  77 

Royal  Gorge,  Colorado,  67 

Ruxton  Creek,  Colorado,  21 

Sabina  Canyon,  Arizona,  136 
Sacramento,   California,    198,   200, 

201 

Sacramento  River,  200 
Sagauche  Range,  Colorado,  68 
Saguaro  Cactus,  137,  153 
St.  Vrain  Canyon,  Colorado,  37,  46 
Salton  Sink,  California,  82,  115 
Salton  Sea,  207 
Salinas,  California,  229 
Salt  Lake  City,  Utah,  91,  52,  85, 

190 

Sammamish  Lake,  Washington,  278 
San  Bernardino,  California,  217 
San  Buenaventura  Mission,  227 
298 


San  Bernardino  Mountains,  152 

San  Carlos  Mission,  230 

San  Diego,  California,  202 

San  Fernando  Mission,  214 

San  Francisco,  200,  233 

San  Francisco  Bay,  232 

San  Francisco  Mountains,  Arizona, 

132 

San  Joaquin  Canyon,  California,  222 
San  Jose",  California,  231 
San  Juan  Mountains,  Colorado,  48, 

70 

San  Juan  River,  Utah,  91 
San  Luis  Obispo,  California,  229 
San  Luis  Park,  Colorado,  17,  45 
San  Xavier  del  Bac,  136 
Sand  Creek  chimneys,  243 
Sandia   Mountains,   New   Mexico, 

144 

Sandyoceras  described,  73 
Sangre  de  Cristo  Mountain,  22,  139 
Santa  Ana,  California,  217 
Santa  Barbara,  California,  228 
Santa  Clara,  California,  231 
Santa  Cruz,  California,  231 
Santa   F6,   New  Mexico,  19,  138, 

141 

Santa  Monica,  California,  211 
Santa  Monica  Mountains,  214 
Santiago  Canyon,  California,  216 
Santa  Cruz  River,  Arizona,  136 
Sautelle  Peak,  Idaho,  181 
Sawmill,  a  modern,  238 
Seattle,  268,  269 

Seminoe  Mountains,  Wyoming,  79 
Sequoias,  220,  224,  231,  236 
Serra,  Junipero,  227,  230 
Seventeen-mile  drive,  230 
Sevier  River,  Utah,  94 
Shavano,  Mount,  68 
Sheep  grazing  in  Utah,  95 
Sherman,  General  W.  T.,  78 
Sherman,  Wyoming,  78 


INDEX 


Shinn,  Charles  Howard,  228 
Shoshone  Falls,  Idaho,  184,  185 
Shoshone  Mountains,  176 
Sierra  Ancha  Mountains,  135 
Sierra  Nevada  Mountains,  194 
Sign  posts  in  the  desert,  154 
Silver  at  Leadville,  33 
Silverton,  Colorado,  71 
Sinawawa,  Temple  of,  101 
Sitting  Bull,  162 
Snake  dance,  origin  of  the,  130 
Snake  River,  Idaho,  181 
Snoqualmie  Pass,  279 
Snoqualmie  Falls,  Washington,  278 
Sontag  and  Evans,  bandits,  221 
South  Park,  Colorado,  45 
Spalding,  Dr.,  188 
Spanish  Peaks,  Colorado,  22 
Spokane,  Washington,  277,  282 
Spruce  Division  Railway,  266 
Springdale,  Utah,  97 
Steamboat  Mountain,  Utah,  97 
Stehekin,  Washington,  252,  281 
Summit  Pass,  198 
Sunset  Highway,  282 

Table  Mountain,  Oregon,  259 

Tacoma,  268,  269 

Tahoe,  Lake,  197,  198 

Tallac,  Mount,  197 

Tamalpais,  Mount,  232 ' 

Taos,  New  Mexico,  139 

Tassajara  Hot   Springs,  California, 

229 

Taylor,  Bayard,  24 
Tetons,  the,  176,  178 
Thompson  Falls,  Montana,  168 
Three  Forks,  head  of  Missouri  River, 

163 

Three  Sisters,  Oregon,  248 
Timpanogas,  Mount,  191 
Toano  Mountains,  194 
Tolchaco,  Arizona,  126,  129 


Toltec  Gorge,  Colorado,  72 
Tonto  National  Monument,  136 
Toquerville,  Utah,  95 
Torrence,  W.  W.,  60 
Treaty  of  1848,  31 
Triceratops,  bones  of,  160 
Trinidad,  Colorado,  138 
Trout,  dinner  of,  253 
Truckee  River,  California,  196 
Tucson,  Arizona,  136,  137 
Tungsten  ore  in  Colorado,  36 

Uintah  Mountains,  Utah,  91 
Uncompahgre  Valley,  Colorado,  58 
Uncompahgre  Peak,  Colorado,  70 
Union  Colony  of  Colorado,  38 
University  of  California,  232 
Utah  Lake,  93 
Ute  Pass,  Colorado,  22,  25,  33 

Vernal,  Utah,  89 

Veta  Mountains,  Colorado,  72 

Viejas,  Valley  de  las,  204 

Virgin  River,  114 

Virginia  City,  Montana,  167 

Visalia,  California,  220 

Vista  House,  Oregon,  258 

Wahclella  Falls,  Oregon,  259 
Walla  Walla,  Washington,  166 
Walla  Walla  Valley,   Washington, 

277 

Walnut  Canyon,  Arizona,  131 
Wagon  Wheel  Gap,  Colorado,  71 
Wasatch  Range,  Utah,  73,  190 
Water  from  Bisnaga  cactus,  153 
Wawona  Point,  California,  224 
Weber  Canyon,  86,  192 
Wenatchee  Valley,  277,  280 
Wetherell,  Richard  and  Albert,  48 
Wheeler  National  Monument,  71 
Whipple,  Lieutenant,  113 
White  Canyon,  Utah,  91 

290 


INDEX 

Whitecross  Mountain,  Colorado,  70  Yellowstone  National  Park,  87, 160, 

Whitman,  Marcus,  183,  189,  263  164,  176 

Whitney,  Mount,  221  Yellowstone  River,  158 

Willamette  Valley,  240,  254  Yosemite   Valley,    California,   221, 

Williams,  Arizona,  107,  132  224 

Williams  Canyon,  26  Young,  Brigham,  85,  98,  190 

Wolves,  265  Ypsilon,  Mount,  Colorado,  66 

Wylie,  W.  W.,  97  Yuma,  Arizona,  115,  133 

Yakima  Valley,  Washington,  277  Zion  National  Park,  94 


By  courtesy  of  the  United  States  Forest  Service 

NATIONAL  FORESTS  OP  THE  WEST 
To  identify  a  forest,  refer  to  map  key  numbers  in  following  table 


KEY  NUMBERS  OF  NATIONAL  FORESTS 

(See  Map) 


State 

Forest 

Map  key 

numbers 

District 

Forest 

Arizona 

Apache 

3 

9 

Coconino 

3 

5 

Coronado  

3 

13 

Crook  

3 

14 

Dixie  

4 

24 

Kaibab 

4 

28 

Prescott 

3 

6 

Sitgreaves  .          .           . 

3 

8 

Tonto  

3 

7 

Tusayan  

3 

1 

California 

Angeles 

5 

17 

California 

5 

6 

Cleveland 

5 

18 

Crater  

6 

17 

Eldorado  

5 

9 

Inyo  

5 

13 

Klamath 

5 

1 

Lassen 

5 

5 

Modoc  . 

5 

4 

Mono  .    . 

5 

11 

Monterey  .  . 

5 

15 

Plumas  

5 

7 

Santa  Barbara  

5 

16 

Sequoia  

5 

14 

Shasta 

5 

3 

Sierra  . 

5 

12 

Siskiyou 

6 

16 

Stanislaus                        .    . 

5 

10 

Tahoe  .... 

5 

8 

Trinity  

5 

2 

Colorado  

Arapaho  

2 

10 

Battlement  
Cochetopa 

2 

2 

14 
20 

Colorado  . 

2 

9 

Durango  .  .                   ... 

2 

23 

Gunnison  ....                 ... 

2 

16 

Hayden  

2 

7 

Holy  Cross  .  . 

2 

13 

La  Sal 

4 

27 

Leadville 

2 

17 

Montezuma 

2 

22 

Pike  

2 

18 

Rio  Grande  

2 

24 

Routt  . 

2 

11 

301 


KEY  NUMBERS  OF  NATIONAL  FORESTS— Continued 


State 

Forest 

Mapke 

y  numbers 

District 

Forest 

Colorado 

San  Isabel 

2 

19 

(Continued) 

San  Juan  .    ... 

2 

25 

Sopris  

2 

15 

Uncompahgre  

2 

21 

White  River  . 

2 

12 

Idaho  

Boise  

4 

6 

Cache  

4 

13 

Caribou 

4 

11 

Challis 

4 

5 

Clearwater         

1 

12 

Coeur  d'Alene  

1 

5 

Idaho  

4 

2 

Kaniksu 

1 

1 

Lemhi 

4 

8 

Minidoka 

4 

14 

Nez  Perce  . 

1 

14 

Payette     ...           ... 

4 

4 

Pend  Orielle  

1 

2 

St.  Joe  

1 

11 

Salmon  

4 

3 

Sawtooth 

4 

7 

Selway 

1 

13 

Targhee.. 

4 

9 

Weiser  

4 

1 

Montana     .... 

Absaroka 

1 

19 

Beartooth 

1 

23 

Beaverhead     

1 

21 

Bitterroot  

1 

15 

Blackfeet  

1 

4 

Cabinet 

1 

6 

Custer 

1 

24 

Deerlodge 

1 

16 

Flathead   .  . 

1 

7 

Gallatin  .  . 

1 

20 

Helena  

1 

17 

Jefferson   

1 

18 

Kootenai  

1 

3 

Lewis  and  Clark 

1 

8 

Lolo 

1 

10 

Madison 

1 

22 

IViissoula 

1 

9 

Sioux.    .               

1 

25 

Nevada 

Dixie 

4 

24 

Eldorado                      

5 

9 

Humboldt  

4 

15 

302 


KEY  NUMBERS  OF  NATIONAL  FORESTS— Continued 


State 

Forest 

Map  key 

numbers 

District 

Forest 

Nevada 

Inyo         .         

5 

13 

(  Con  tin  ucd  ) 

Mono  

5 

11 

Nevada  

4 

17 

Tahoe 

5 

8 

Toiyabe 

4 

16 

Carson           .               ... 

3 

2 

Coronado        

3 

13 

Datil  

3 

10 

Gila  

3 

12 

Lincoln  

3 

11 

Manzano 

3 

4 

Santa  Fe  . 

3 

3 

Orccon 

Cascade  

6 

13 

Crater 

6 

17 

Deschutes 

6 

14 

Fremont  .  . 

6 

18 

Klamath  

5 

1 

Malheur  

6 

24 

Miriam  

6 

21 

Ochoco 

6 

25 

Oregon  . 

6 

11 

Santiam 

6 

12 

Siskiyou  

6 

16 

Siuslaw  

6 

16 

Umatilla  

6 

22 

Umpqua  

6 

15 

Wallowa  

6 

20 

Wenaha  

6 

19 

Whitman  

6 

23 

Utah 

Ashley  

4 

19 

Cache  

4 

13 

Dixie 

4 

24 

Fillmore 

4 

23 

Fishlake 

4 

22 

La  Sal  

4 

27 

Manti            .                   ... 

4 

21 

Minidoka  

4 

14 

Powell  

4 

26 

Sevier  

4 

25 

Uinta  

4 

20 

Wasatch  

4 

18 

Chelan  

6 

6 

'  Columbia 

6 

9 

'Colville                   .   . 

6 

3 

KEY  NUMBERS  OF  NATIONAL  FORESTS— Continued 


State 

Forest 

Map  key 

numbers 

District 

Forest 

Washington  

Kaniksu  

1 

1 

(Continued) 

Okganogan 

6 

2 

Olympic 

6 

4 

Rainier        .  .        .... 

6 

8 

Snoqualmie  

6 

5 

Washington  

6 

1 

Wenaha  

6 

19 

Wenatchee  

6 

7 

Wyoming 

Ashley 

4 

19 

Bighorn 

2 

2 

Black  Hills     .          .    . 

2 

3 

Bridger     ...       

2 

6 

Caribou  

4 

7 

Hayden  

2 

7 

Medicine  Bow  

2 

8 

Shoshone 

2 

1 

Targhee  . 

4 

9 

Teton                               .    . 

4 

10 

Washakie  

2 

5 

Wyoming  

4 

12 

been 


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2  1933 


SEP  13  1933 

APR  281937 
JUL  201217 


DEC  13 


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AUG17'64-6P« 


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UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


